


Reflection of You

by skyenapped



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Codependency, Coincidences, Consent Issues, Cutting, Daddy Kink, Dubious Ethics, Emotional Infidelity, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fluff, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Violence, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Recovery, Rimming, Self-Mutilation, Self-Worth Issues, Slut Shaming, past emotional/psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 104,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyenapped/pseuds/skyenapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike meets a young man named Sean - who happens to look just like him - and wants to be his friend. Unfortunately, Harvey has already met Sean and wants something else from him entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Long story short: 90% of this fic happened because Mike needs a friend and I just found a really inconvenient way to give him one.
> 
> (yeah, yeah, i made Mike younger than he really is (again). what can i say. it's a thing.)

*

**Tuesday,** **Day 1**

 

Mike’s day had been lousy and exhausting. He’d been slated to work with Louis, per Jessica’s insistence and at Harvey’s reluctance, and as a result, he’d endured the usual humiliation, perplexing metaphors, and worst of all, a loss in court. All in all, it sucked and by the end of the day, he needed a drink (or five).

He wandered to Harvey’s office around eight o’clock, but couldn’t find him. Disappointed, but accustomed to being alone, Mike wandered a ways away from work to a small, smoky, busy bar he’d been to a handful of times but normally biked past. It was a local hangout, almost unseen as it was in between, and nearly camouflaged by, a large bank and a towering, five-star hotel.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer, at first, while quietly mulling over something stronger to order if the draft failed to make him feel any better. Next to him, a young man slid onto the bar stool, quickly drawing Mike’s attention.

_“Whoa!”_ they both exclaimed at once, eyes flying up to meet.

The man, or kid, rather – he looked awfully young – had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a face and frame uncannily like Mike’s. It was actually weird.

Their choice of the same word, however understandable, was just another thing to make it even stranger.

Clearly sizing each other up, the other man spoke. “Dude, I feel like I’m looking in a mirror.”

“Yeah,” Mike frowned, looking down at the way the guy was fidgeting with an empty shot glass. There was just enough difference in their appearance for themselves to notice it, but it was evident that to strangers they probably looked almost identical. “This is _weird.”_

After several minutes, the initial shock wore off. Mike noticed quirks in the man’s behavior that didn’t match his own and the way he wore his watch and tugged his wallet from his pocket indicated a good chance he was a lefty. They were just little things, but it was enough to temper the oddness a to some degree. After all, New York City was a big place. Surely there were lots of people who resembled Mike, some more closely than others. And again, if you looked hard enough, the guy beside him was only a prototype, if a scarily convincing one at that. It made sense that it in a dimly lit bar it would be even more exaggerated.

“I, uh, I’m Sean,” the guy introduced, outstretching his hand. He seemed nervous, for other reasons than having met someone with such an eerie resemblance.

Mike shook his hand and gave him a friendly smile. “Mike.”

They both chalked it up to coincidence and statistics and began a normal conversation. Mike told him he was a lawyer and how his day required several drinks before he could forget it. Sean laughed and explained that he was a graduate student at Columbia.

“Business,” he declared. “Uphill battle.”

Mike felt a slight, almost transient pang of jealousy. Not only was the kid his prototype, but apparently he was a more successful one, too? Not a genius, probably, but smart enough for Columbia and grad school and actually putting his brain to use in a legal way. Having been knocked down a few pegs by Louis, as usual, Mike’s self-esteem was lacking. He hadn’t seen Harvey all day, which depressed Mike more than it should have, and so therefore he’d basically had no praise the entire day either. It was ridiculous that he even needed it, but the truth was, he did, and when he didn’t get it, well…it made it a lot more difficult to hear about someone else’s life going according to plan.

“You don’t look old enough for grad school,” Mike laughed, at a loss for what else to say.

“Oh,” Sean shook his head dismissively. “I’m older than I look.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, just turned twenty-six,” he said with a shrug. “I worked about a year after I graduated to try to save up to go back for my MBA. Turns out that money ran out faster than I expected.”

Mike frowned and glanced down at his beer. Sean definitely didn’t look twenty-six. Twenty-four, _maybe._ It gave him a little reassurance. Mike was twenty-three, which meant he still had time, right? Maybe he could save up, quit his life of fraud, and figure out a way to go back to school too. Maybe. Hell, just the thought of it all was too daunting a task.

“What about you?” Sean’s voice drew Mike out of his thoughts of self-deprecation and fear of the future.

“Huh?”

“How old are you? You look nineteen, tops, but I figure that can’t be ‘cause you’re drinking.” He motioned toward Mike’s beer.

“Oh,” Mike nodded. “Yeah, no, I’m twenty-three.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m...older than I look.”

They both laughed heartily at that, and then the conversation drifted back toward school.

“So you must be shelling out a lot for this MBA if you’re money’s already gone,” Mike observed.

Sean nodded, “A hundred and sixty grand. That’s on top of my undergrad loans which I haven’t managed to make a dent in working in midtown six days a week at a tourist trap. Which seems to be only place I can get a job because of my class schedule.”

Mike felt a little bad for him, noticing familiar signs of weariness in the guy’s face. “So why not call it, then? I mean, you know, take a break or something?”

“I can’t,” Sean said, staid. “I have…uh…family stuff. My bachelor’s was pretty much useless, and I was hardly making more than minimum wage. I desperately need this degree and I only have a year left, so I’m trying to stick it out.”

Mike nodded sympathetically – or perhaps _empathetically_ ; he knew the struggle.

“Can I ask you something?” Sean turned to him with a slight, inquisitive grin. “If you’re twenty-three, how the _hell_ are you already lawyer?”

Mike almost spilled his beer in his lap, fumbling ungracefully before managing to set it down. “Oh, um…” _Shit._

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sean decided, swiping the air. “You were probably some sort of child prodigy, graduated early and all that.”

Mike took him up on the offer, said nothing, and then eventually tried to change the topic. He was enjoying the guy’s company, and didn’t want to scare him off by accidentally confessing to having cheated the system to a person currently crawling through the trenches to finish grad school without breaking any laws.

“So, do you come here a lot?” It was such a lame question Mike actually cringed at himself. But it was all he could think of. Not because it was at all awkward, in fact he felt very at ease with Sean, as though they’d known each other a while. It was more that he was still a little flustered about his lie and his social skills weren’t impressive – and on that note, he flagged down the bartender and ordered a Jack and Coke.

“No,” Sean replied. “I never have the time.” He paused, ducking his head, almost in embarrassment, before glancing back at Mike. “Actually, I’m, uh…sort of...working.”

It looked like he regretted the words immediately upon saying them, his eyes fluttering closed in exasperation.

“Working? At the bar?” Mike asked, not catching on to the ambiguity. “You look like a patron to me.”

Sean gave him a sad smile. “No, I… Like I said, school’s really expensive and I’m already balancing it with a full-time job and I still can’t completely make ends meet. So I had to, uh, look for _alternative_ options.”

Mike studied him for a moment, and it all started to sink in. The uncomfortable shifting Sean was doing on his seat, the nervous tapping on his glass, constantly checking his phone, the shame on his face, his sudden inability to make eye contact… Mike recognized the despair, or at least, it closely resembled the type he’d come very close to, just before fate had dumped him at Harvey’s feet in the Chilton not a moment too soon.

“You’re an escort?” Mike whispered quietly, leaning in.

Sean scoffed, “That’s a really great euphemism, Mike, but you can say it. I’m a whore.”

“I don’t think…”

“Look, you’re probably judging me but—”

“I’m not,” Mike said certainly, cutting him off. “Judging you, I mean. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be desperate for money.”

Looking a little relieved, Sean sighed. “Oh. Well, um…thanks. I don’t… I just…you seemed like…I don’t know,” he shrugged, flustered. “You seemed cool. Like you wouldn’t think I was a freak.”

Mike gave him a small smile. “If you makes you feel any better,” he admitted, dropping his voice to a whisper again. “I was in a tough spot about a year ago. Almost got busted with 20k of pot.”

“Seriously?”

Nodding, Mike laughed. “Yeah, I swear to God, closest call I ever had. So trust me, I’m not judging anybody.”

After that, they fell quiet for a few minutes. Mike sipped his Jack and Coke and let the rowdy background noises drown out his problems from the day. Beside him, Sean had downed another shot and was quickly rallying the girl at the bar for yet another. It didn’t seem like a great idea, considering, though Mike did see the motive in him maybe not wanting to be a hundred percent sober. Honestly, he wanted to help him out. But the truth was, Mike’s own money went out faster than it came in these days. He still had plenty of debt left over from his life with Trevor, and at the moment, all of his paychecks were going to outstanding bills from the nursing home and from his grandmother’s funeral. Basically, both of their lives were a mess. It would be the blind leading the blind. The poor leading the broke or…whatever.

Mike swiveled in his seat.

“So, are you like, meeting them…here?”

Sean nodded, tipping back his shot glass.

“Is it...are they…guys?”

At that, Sean laughed.

“I’m sorry,” Mike said. “I’m not trying to be rude, really, I was just…curious.”

“It’s okay, I don’t care.” Sean motioned toward the door. “Yeah, it's a guy and he’s meeting me at the hotel next door, actually. I came here to uh, take the edge off.”

“Oh. So wait, you haven’t actually… _done_   this before?”

 “What? Fucked for money? No. Can’t say I’ve ever been this desperate before. Or, I mean, I _have,_ but... I guess I put off the inevitable.”

Mike nodded and bit his lip. He tried not to comment, but he couldn’t help it. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“What?”

“Those,” Mike said, pointing to the empty shot glasses.

Sean smiled miserably, “Probably not but…kinda helping to calm me down, you know?”

“Yeah…” Mike frowned. “I guess. So, like, do you know anything about this guy?”

“You mean did I do a background check?” Sean laughed. “No, that’d be bad for business. Besides, it’s fine. Gotta do what I gotta do, right?”

That Mike definitely understood, so he raised his glass. After a few minutes, his curiosity and concern piqued again. “I just think maybe you should carry like, a weapon or something.”

Sean shook his head.

“I mean what if this guy is some kind of serial killer? No offense, but if I see your face on the news it’s gonna be really weird because…” Mike motioned between their faces to point out their already painfully-obvious resemblance. “That would really freak me out.”

They both laughed.

“I think it’ll be okay. He seemed…" Sean hesitated and then sighed. "...fairly normal, actually.”

“Oh,” Mike felt a little relieved. “So you’ve met him before, then?”

Sean winced as he tipped back another shot of what smelled like tequila. “Yeah. It’s weird, actually…he sort of approached _me.”_

“Isn’t that usually how it works?”

“I don’t know,” Sean shrugged. “Is it? I’m new to the industry. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve definitely thought about it. A lot more recently, too. So who knows, maybe there’s a sign on my forehead or something? Or do I just look the part?”

Mike smiled and raised an eyebrow. “If you look the part then I look the part.”

“True,” Sean conceded. “Sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Mike told him. “So, what, this guy just walks up to you, offers you money for… _what,_ exactly?”

“Actually…yeah, that’s…well…” Sean made a face, as if trying to figure out exactly how to explain it. “It’s kind of a weird story.”

“Kind of a weird night,” Mike replied, resting his chin on his hand. He could feel the warmth of the beers finally taking hold, pacifying him, diluting his worries. He still didn’t want to be alone and he was vastly short on friends, so he tried to keep Sean talking. There weren’t a lot of people Mike could relate to these days. “You wanna share it?”

“Yeah, okay,” Sean shrugged, still seeming somewhat relieved that Mike hadn’t written him off. “Well, I was at the ATM outside the bank next door, about a week ago. I’m not usually on this side of town, either. So anyway, I was trying to get some cash out and, well, you probably know how _that_ went over.”

_“De-_ clined,” Mike guessed, sing-song, not even bothering to phrase it as a question. He knew that feeling all too well.

“Exactly,” Sean confirmed. “So there was this guy in a suit who I’d seen walk into the bank and I noticed he’d sort of done, uh, like a double-take and stared at me. But I didn’t think much of it, just figured he thought, you know, that I was someone else or something, and eventually he went inside…”

“But…?”

“But then he came back out and he looked at me again, like he didn’t even _try_ to be discreet, either. And I was basically yelling at the ATM machine, saying ‘fuck you!’. I must have looked like a fucking idiot, but I was so embarrassed, because there was a line behind me, and it was obvious that I was trying to make a withdrawal but, I walked away without any money.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, I just sort of walked to the side and tried to pull up my account on my phone, to see what the problem was. I mean, I swore I still had money in it, but apparently all these bills had come out at once and I had done the math all wrong, and, well, long story but I was in the red almost a grand.”

_“Ouch,”_ Mike said, with a cringe. “Been there before.”

“Yeah,” Sean continued. “And that wasn’t even the first or second or third time it’d happened to me this year. I was so depressed. I mean, the first few times I managed to get back in the clear, but then they hit you with all those penalties and fees and shit, and I just couldn’t keep up. So it was just another hit, you know, and rent was still due and… _fuck,_   I didn’t even know how I was going to eat that week.”

“Are you me?” Mike asked. “Seriously, this is weird.”

“I think considering what happened after that, I have you beat by the weird factor by like at least a few points.”

Mike shrugged in agreement, “I’ll give you that. No one has ever just walked up and offered to pay me for sex. Yet, anyway. Though I must have a shot, right? I mean, since we’re practically twins?”

Sean chuckled, dipping his head and pushing back his hair. The liquor seemed to have done a decent job of mellowing him out, though he still compulsively glanced at his cell phone and every now and again, would start to tap his fingers. Mike was glad he was more at ease without seeming particularly impaired, not that it made the situation any more ideal.

“Come _onnn,”_ he whined, nudging Sean’s shoulder playfully. He turned toward the bartender when she pointed to his mug and nodded for a refill, before turning back. “You’re at the best part!”

“Okay, okay,” Sean laughed again, but he looked sheepish. “It’s embarrassing….”

“Why?” Mike asked, looking around like that was ridiculous. “Okay, yeah, it’s creepy but still. He started it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess,” Sean nodded and shrugged. “He was just…sort of intimidating.”

“How so?”

“Well, he was just really brazen about the whole thing. Like, the way he kept looking at me, and then he just watched me while I was standing there on my phone, and _then,_ he just walked up to me, like really close, and asked my name.”

“Whoa,” Mike widened his eyes exaggeratedly. “He asked your _name?_ Are you _sure_ he’s not a serial killer?”

Sean rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not sure, but I’m just hoping the chances are slim.”

“That is a little weird though,” Mike conceded, taking a big gulp of his new beer. “Is he at least hot?”

“Yeah,” Sean nodded quickly. “Really hot.”

“That’s good,” Mike said. “So what’d he say? After he asked for your name, I mean. How do you segway from that to sex, anyway?” He scrunched up his face in confusion. This conversation was the most interesting thing to happen to him all day, possibly all week.

“I told him my name and he just sort of looked at me and then he asked how old I was…” Sean tossed up his hands at the ridiculousness and sighed. “So finally I asked him who the hell he was, which I thought might piss him off but honestly I think he actually just laughed. But then he said he was sorry if he’d startled me, that I looked like someone he knew, and he could tell I was having some trouble, that I was...”

“He could tell you were broke as fuck,” Mike offered.

“Exactly. Anyway, normally I don’t have time to indulge pushy strangers – or, really, anyone for that matter – but I was flustered because of the overdraft thing, and he was hot, and I was tired and at the end of my rope and I just sort of spilled my guts. Said I was a grad student and tuition had taken my soul and blah blah blah and he just listened and then he told me he knew how hard school could be and…oh my god," Sean put a hand over his face. "I’m so fucking gullible.”

Mike grinned, “You are.”

“Well, whatever,” Sean shook his head. “He said he could help me out but that it would be…unorthodox. I could tell what he meant because of how he kept looking at me and then it sort of got weird, obviously, but he gave me his number and I…took it. He said not to tell anyone and then he left. Look, I know this is weird—”

“Not judging,” Mike reminded, raising his hands.

“—But you don’t understand how much he offered to pay me.”

“How much?” Mike asked conspiratorially.

“A lot,” Sean admitted. “I didn’t even call him for four days. I was trying to figure out how to pay rent and pick up more hours at work and I was so tired because I was up all night cramming for an exam, and all I kept thinking about was what he’d said, how _easy_ it would be. Twenty-five hundred. It’s more than I make in like two whole months. It’ll solve like eight out of ten of my problems, at least for a little while.”

Mike choked on a mouthful of beer and sputtered. _“Twenty-five hundred?_ Are you fucking serious? Who _is_ this guy?”

“I don’t really know. Like I said, he was in a suit but…Wall Street maybe? Kinda got that vibe.”

“What vibe?”

Sean tilted his head, “You know, that charming-but-deadly-and-richer-than-God vibe.”

Mike almost choked again. He knew that vibe _well._ “Okay, but seriously, twenty-five hundred?”

“Yeah,” Sean nodded firmly. “I swear. And I kind of got the feeling he’d go higher if he thought I wasn’t totally sold. But, you know, I was so desperate I’d have probably taken him up on it for way less. Actually… _that’s_ the really weird part…”

“What is?”

“Well,” Sean hesitated, glancing again at his phone. “I mean, honestly? If he’d just like, flirted with me, I’d probably have slept with him anyway. For free. I mean, just ‘cause he’s really hot. So when he offered me money I…I don’t know. I figured maybe he’s married, you know? And he doesn’t want his wife find out he’s into guys and so he figures if he pays me, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Who knows,” he frowned, adding, “I didn't see a ring though, but, I mean, he must want to hide it from _someone._ Otherwise I don't think he'd go through all the trouble."

“Probably not. What’d he say when you called him?”

“He was really smooth about it. I don’t think he’d ever done it before, and he was definitely trying to keep it under wraps, like I said, but he didn’t seem nervous or anything. And he knew exactly what he wanted me to wear,” Sean gestured to his outfit, which was surprisingly casual yet specific – worn out jeans and a grey t-shirt, not unlike what Mike usually wore when he wasn’t suffering in a suit by day. “Asked if I could meet him tonight and I said yes, so…yeah. Here I am.”

“Here we _both_ are,” Mike said. “You can’t make this shit up.”

Sean laughed, “No, man. Crazy, right?”

Mike nodded in agreement, taking another long gulp of his beer, relishing the light buzz he was feeling.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, and eventually, Sean’s phone finally buzzed. He grabbed it and nearly dropped it like it was a hot coal, before finally glancing at the screen.

Admittedly, Mike strained his neck to peek before realizing that was rude and invasive and settled back on his barstool instead, before he could see anything.

“I gotta go,” Sean told him. He looked nervous all over again, perhaps even on the verge of backing out, as if the efficacy of the tequila shots had vanished. He began to slide off his seat, and Mike grabbed his shoulder to slow him down.

“Hey, I know this might be weird but…” Mike struggled for the right words. “Remember that story I told you about the weed?”

“Don’t tell me you made that up to make me feel less like shit for selling out.”

“No, no, no,” Mike shook his head wildly. “All true, I swear. I lost a few friends because of it. Most of them, actually…” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say _all._ “So, uh, maybe I could give you my number and you could text me sometime if you don’t want to drink alone.”

When Sean didn’t reply immediately, Mike panicked, adding hopefully, “Or, you could just text me to let me know this guy didn’t cut you up in pieces and throw you in the Hudson?”

Sean smiled genuinely and nodded, much to Mike’s relief.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he agreed, reading off his number. Mike pulled out his phone and entered it into his contacts.

“Last name?”

“Westlee. Two E’s no Y.”

“Got it,” Mike said, looking up. “Hey, you know you don’t have to do this, right? I mean, in case you’re having second thoughts.”

Sean slipped off his seat, grabbed his wallet and threw down a tip. “Yeah, but I need to.” He turned to walk away, pausing to look back and call, “I’ll text you.”

Mike waved him off and then proceeded to drown both his concern and loneliness with more beer.

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I don't actually know how friendship works between men in their 20s?? this is a fictionalized educated guess from witnessing interactions from a safe distance.)

*

**Wednesday,** **Day 2**

 

Mike wasn’t sure if he expected to hear from Sean or not. It was a toss-up, really. On one hand, they still really didn’t know each other at all. What Sean knew about him was that he was supposedly a lawyer, albeit far too young to probably realistically be one, and he had a shady past involving drugs. And from what Mike knew about _him_ , he was a struggling grad-student with family problems and so in debt he’d agreed to sleep with a really rich guy for money. Honestly, it was all a little strange but neither of their stories was particularly groundbreaking. And on the other hand, Mike did feel that they’d bonded to some degree - at least as much as two people can bond in a bar together for a couple hours, anyway. And it didn't hurt that they looked so much alike.

He didn’t really expect or even want to hear from him in a romantic way. Sure, Sean was attractive, but not for the reason that he looked like Mike, because Mike just wasn’t that vain. He was more attractive in the sense that he seemed like a better version of Mike – his hair was neater, his jawline a little sharper, teeth a little whiter, marginally less scrawny. And despite his money troubles and proclivity to leap at the prospect of a huge one-night-stand payout, he seemed like he knew what he was doing. As far as school, went, anyway, and Mike would be lying if he said he didn’t admire his determination to get through school, to _earn_ his degree. Sean wasn’t taking any shortcuts and in lieu of resenting him for being a better person, Mike decided he wanted to be his friend instead. After all, he didn’t have very many of those anymore.

In fact, he’d started to consider Harvey a friend, but that was right around the time he’d also started to realize he’d become more of a _crush,_ and from there it had all just snowballed until Mike realized he was actually _pining_ which was just pathetic and seemed to have gone unnoticed anyway – if not altogether dismissed – by Harvey. As a result, Mike had been forced to try to bottle it up and live with it.

And aside from wanting the one person he was convinced he couldn’t have – because he’d decided Harvey was either out of his league or staunchly against fishing from the company pier – Mike wasn’t exactly surrounded by people to hang out with.

So when Sean texted him the following morning, Mike thought maybe his luck was turning around. Now, maybe on those days when he had to work with Louis and when Harvey wasn’t around for him to try and lure out to a bar or talk into lunch, Mike would still have someone to talk to and throw back a few beers with.

He was in Harvey’s office, around ten-thirtyish, sitting on the couch with a stack of files he’d just had sent over, when his phone chirped with the message.

[10:27am] Sean Westlee: _Hey. Just letting you know he did NOT kill me…very nice actually. LOL!_

Mike couldn’t help but laugh at that, a little (okay, a lot) of relief flooding over him. He texted back quickly.

[10:28am] Mike Ross: _Good!! I wanna hear all about it…do you wanna get drinks tonight? I’m off at 7 usually  
_ [10:28am] Sean Westlee: _I have class all day and work til midnight though. Wanna meet up Friday?  
_ [10:29am] Mike Ross: _Yeah, same place?_  
[10:29am] Sean Westlee: _Yeah, same place, same time  
_ [10:29am] Mike Ross: _See you then! You get your money? LOL_  
[10:30am] Sean Westlee: _I did! Omg so relieved. See you Friday._

Mike smiled and was about to set his phone on the table when he heard Harvey clearing his throat from across the room.

“What?” Mike asked innocently.

Harvey stared back in disapproval from his desk. “Shouldn’t you be finding me a loophole instead of texting like a sixteen-year-old girl?”

Scowling, Mike put down his phone and grabbed his pen. He considered making a smartass remark – there was one right on tip of his tongue – but in the end he couldn’t do it. Instead he just mumbled, “Sorry,” and went back to work.

 

*

**Friday,** **Day 4**

As Friday drew to an end, Mike was increasingly excited about his plans with Sean. It was a little pathetic, he admitted, but he wasn’t used to having any plans. Not with anyone except himself, anyway. Sometimes he was lucky enough to get Harvey to join him, or he’d just barge into his condo and demand his attention. And when that happened, Harvey did a poor job of pretending not to want to give it to him, and in the end they’d eat and talk and sometimes watch a movie. It wasn’t everything Mike wanted, but he was convinced it was all he was going to get, so he took it. But Harvey never seemed completely comfortable with any of it, for reasons Mike still hadn’t figured out, although he’d chalked it up to the way Harvey seemed to shut most people out, and he tried his hardest not to take it personally.

He actually made more of an effort to finish up his work on time so he could go home, shower, change and get to the bar on time. Rushing straight there after work in a suit tarnished with the day’s cases and sweat just wasn’t as fun, particularly on a Friday night.

Harvey must have picked up on his anticipation, because around six thirty he leaned across his desk and raised his eyebrow. “What are you so jumpy about today, pup?”

Mike looked up. “What? Nothing. I’m not jumpy.”

“Okay,” Harvey leaned back. “You’re actually trying to get out of here on time, instead of looking for reasons to stay. Got a hot date?”

“Ha,” Mike scoffed. “No. Just meeting a friend for drinks.” He noted the smirk on Harvey’s face and added, “Yeah, okay, I made a friend. Please, tease me relentlessly about it. You’re the only who didn’t like my old one.”

Harvey just watched him. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” Mike looked away. “Well, um, you could…come if you want…ed.” God, so pathetic. Talking to Harvey had been four billion times easier _before_ Mike fell in love with him.

“Gonna have to take a rain check, kid.”

Mike nodded slowly, disappointed but not surprised.

After about fifteen minutes, Harvey broke the silence again. “So, who’s your friend?”

“Oh, uh,” Mike shrugged. “Just some guy…” He considered telling Harvey about the whole bizarre happenstance meeting from beginning to end, and surely, if he ended up on Harvey’s couch that night with another movie, he probably would have. But then the phone rang and Harvey got distracted and Mike slumped back and decided not to bother.

 When seven pm finally rolled around, Mike wandered to his cubicle to get his things, and then passed Harvey near the elevators.

“You leaving?”

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “I put the files on your desk. They’re all done. Why? Did you need something else? Because I can stay if—”

Harvey just shook his head and gave him a faint smile, “Nope, I’m all set.”

“Are you sure? Because I can—”

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s Friday night, Mike. You’re twenty-three. Go have some fun with your friend.”

He winked and then walked away and Mike stood for a few seconds and watched, before eventually getting into an elevator and leaving.

 

*

The bar was even busier on Friday, of course, when Mike finally got there, around nine thirty. He’d accidentally fallen asleep when he’d gotten home, but after an hour and a half nap, a hot shower, and clean clothes – he felt refreshed. With all of the excitement and the music inside, he was wide awake again.

He quickly spotted Sean, this time sitting on the opposite end of the bar. Once again, the initial alarm of coming face to face with him hit, but it faded faster the second time around. 

“Hey, hey,” he announced.

Sean looked up with a smile and nodded, “Hey.”

“So,” Mike said sarcastically, sliding onto the seat next to him. “You’re alive.”

“I am,” Sean laughed.

Mike grinned. “I was glad you texted me.”

“Well, it’s not every day you meet another desperate screw up who looks exactly like you.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Mike told him. He quickly got the attention of a bartender and opened a tab.

About thirty minutes later, they were still settling in, not quite done with their first round, and still catching up on the past few days. Mike explained that his days had improved since he was last there – (namely because Harvey and Louis had gotten into a huge fight and Harvey specifically told him he could _not have Mike anymore_ , though Mike left all of those details out) - but that he was tired and glad it was Friday nonetheless. He was tempted to go for the kill, dredge out all the dirty details of The Night, but he knew Sean was getting to it, and he decided to let him get a few drinks in, so they rambled on about work and school for a while first.

At some point, a pretty, drunk girl staggered over and, dismayed, asked, “Are you… _twins?!?!”,_ as though the concept was impossible.

Mike shook his head and gave her a polite smile. “No.”

_“Brothers?!?!?!”_

“No, we’re not—”

She made a frustrated noise of confusion and then staggered off. In her absence, they collapsed in hysterics and ordered another round.

After a bit, Sean said, “Okay.”

“Finally!” Mike exclaimed. “I thought you were never going to tell me.”

“I know. I just…I don’t know, I guess I feel weird about it.”

“Why? Was he weird? Wait, no, you said he was nice, right?”

“Yeah,” Sean shrugged. “He was, he was…really nice actually. Um, but, I’ve never been, you know, _paid_ before. So I just feel…”

“Used?”

“Yeah. I guess, a little. I don’t know.”

Mike looked over at him with sympathy. “But the money’s helping, right? I mean, was it at least worth it?”

Sean nodded, “Definitely. I was so relieved after he made the transfer I went home and cried for like two hours." He paused and then added, "Please don't tell anyone I said that."

“But you’re in the clear now, right? With your account?”

“Yeah, finally. I think I slept for like six hours last night, and I didn’t have nightmares about eviction notices either. It was amazing.”

Mike took a long swig from his bottle. “So, is he married?”

“No,” Sean shook his head. “Well, I don’t know, honestly. But I still didn’t see a ring…although…you’d think he’d take he would’ve taken it off, right?”

“You’d think.”

“I guess he could be, but...if he really had a wife at home, I don’t think he’d get away with being gone on a Tuesday night. But who knows. I definitely didn’t ask, that’s for sure.”

“Hm,” Mike shrugged. “So you stayed the whole night?”

Sean nodded, swallowing a mouthful of his own beer. “Yeah. He asked me to.”

_“That’s_ interesting. Isn’t the point of paying someone so that you keep things totally no-strings-attached and spending the night is like…strings…attached?” Mike looked away for a second as though he'd just confused himself. 

“Yeah, but,” Sean frowned thoughtfully. “That’s the thing. He even explained it to me. Basically, outside of the hotel room, we don’t know each other at all. He was really serious about that. So I guess with that on the table, it doesn’t really matter if I stay the night.”

Mike smirked, “Maybe he’s a Fed. Or CIA.”

Sean laughed, “Maybe.”

“So,” Mike asked, after several minutes. “What did you guys, you know… _do?”_

“You mean besides the sex?”

Rolling his eyes, Mike picked up his drink and groaned. “You’re not giving me all the gory details you promised.”

“I want to,” Sean insisted. “But I think my shame needs to wear off a little more.”

Mike knew it was meant to be a joke, but he could hear the truth in it. “Yeah, well, that could take a while.”

Sean scoffed, “Yeah? You have experience with this? Or does dealing drugs trigger the same guilt complex?”

“Something like that,” Mike muttered into his bottle.

They fell quiet for a while, just drinking, listening to the music playing in the background, and the excited chatter of people around them.

“It’s cool I can talk to you about it,” Sean said suddenly, glancing in Mike’s direction. “I mean, not just _it,_ you know, but…everything. School and stuff.”

Mike nodded, “Yeah. Same.”

And then – and it could’ve been all the beers he’d thrown back in relatively quick succession, or it may have been how comfortable he felt, how at ease, but whatever it was – Mike felt compelled to come clean.

“Can tell you a secret?”

Sean let out a dry laugh, “Please do.”

“Alright,” Mike leaned in a little, turning his bottle around. “Remember when you asked how I was a lawyer if I’m only twenty-three? Well, I’m not. I mean, I am…I _work_ as a lawyer. But I’m not actually a lawyer.”

For a few seconds, Sean didn’t respond, just stared back as if the news was still sinking in, and Mike momentarily regretted his confession. For all their similarities and bad luck, they didn’t actually know each other real well yet and there was a possibility that Mike had just set up a landmine for himself to trip over. 

But then Sean broke into a smile, “Seriously? I fucking called it.”

“You…what now?”

“I called it,” he repeated, shrugging. “I mean, not exactly, but I kinda figured you weren’t like, a hundred percent legit. No offense.”

“None taken,” Mike said, relieved.

After that, Sean seemed to feel a little better about his own indiscretions. He ordered them both a shot of whiskey and said, “My lips are sealed, by the way.”

“Mine too,” Mike told him.

With a smile, they raised their shot glasses and tipped them back, coughing at burn of the liquid.

“So,” Sean said, with a devious smirk. “Do you still wanna know the rest?”

 

*

**11 days earlier,** **Monday**

 Harvey didn’t typically need to run his own errands, but after a meeting with a client, and while waiting for Ray to pick him up, he decided it wouldn’t kill him to run into the bank and make a deposit himself like any other lowly citizen.

On his way in though, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mike waiting in a growing line to use the ATM. Which was really weird because he’d told the kid specifically to stay at the firm and finish reading the briefs on their case, and yet, here he was, twelve blocks away…doing what, exactly?

Except, after doing a double-take hard enough to give himself whip lash, Harvey realized the young man was not Mike. But _holy shit_ did it look like him.

A little thrown off – and that was unusual – Harvey shook his head, went inside the bank and completed his deposit. He expected the kid to be gone five minutes later when he walked out - or perhaps just a mirage; the personification of his mental preoccupation with Mike - but to Harvey's surprise, he was still there. By now, he was face-to-face with the ATM, jabbing a button and cursing at the machine multiple times. After a few more seconds, the blonde shot the people in line behind him an apologetic look, and walked off to the side, pulling out his phone. Harvey noticed that he looked frazzled, a little embarrassed, and that he hadn’t taken any money out. Instead, he was staring down at the screen of his phone and shaking his head.

Against his better judgment, and because, God help him, he couldn’t contain his curiosity, Harvey approached. Swiftly and confidently, of course, to the point of maybe getting a little too close for comfort, noting how the kid backed up a couple steps and seemed somewhat alarmed.

“What’s your name?” Harvey asked boldly. He must have said it in his default lawyer-voice, which to be honest, wasn’t intentional, but very effective.

“Sean…?” the young man replied, a little uncertain. He looked at Harvey suspiciously.

Harvey sized him up, still struck by how closely he resembled Mike. “How old are you?”

Sean answered almost reflexively. “Twenty-six.”

Older than Mike by a few years, Harvey realized, though he didn’t still didn’t look his age.

After a couple seconds, Sean wrinkled his nose and said, “Who the hell are you?”

Harvey smiled. Finally some gusto. Who just indulges a random and slightly terrifying stranger on a street corner in New York City anyway? Clearly Sean was running low on sleep and his delayed street-smart instincts were playing catch-up.

“Harvey. Look, I’m sorry if I startled you,” Harvey told him, careful not mention his last name. “You looked familiar, but I must have gotten you confused with someone else.”

“Oh,” Sean’s suspicion seemed to fade fairly quickly. He looked down at his phone and bit his lip, which was a very Mike thing to do, and, _fuck,_ Harvey thought, as he raked his eyes up and down his body – this was going to get him a one-way ticket to hell. But he just…couldn’t help himself.

“I also noticed you were having some trouble over there,” he said, nodding toward the ATM and silently chiding himself. This was a terrible idea. Except it was also brilliant.

“Yeah, um, a little,” Sean admitted shyly. “I uh…”

Harvey gave him a small, compassionate, you-can-trust-me sort of smile, and Sean just caved completely. It really wasn’t even fair, and a little too much déjà-vu for Harvey to be okay with, but he just couldn’t pry himself away from the stunningly familiar blonde hair and blue eyed kid standing in front of him, looking lost.

“I’m a grad student actually,” he began, the start of a rushed, whirlwind, slightly-embarrassed confession. “It’s uh, a lot of money.”

“Uh-huh,” Harvey agreed.

“Yeah, so,” Sean shifted on his feet and gave a small laugh, “Sold my soul to Columbia and now I’m broke, basically.”

“School is tough,” Harvey conceded, with a sympathetic nod. “I should know, I spent a lot of years there.”

Sean guessed, “Finance?”

Harvey shook his head, “Nope.” But he didn’t specify law, either. Instead he just adjusted the topic for his own benefit, which was his expertise after all. “You know, I could help you out. If you wanted.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re strapped for cash and I could change that,” Harvey explained bluntly, making a show of tracing the lines of Sean’s body with his eyes and licking his lips.

The small ‘o’ of realization on Sean’s mouth when it all sank in was priceless. His eyes widened a little in surprised, but he hadn’t yet turned and fled, which Harvey took as a promising sign. And also a very damning one.

“Are you…”

“Come on, Sean,” Harvey purred. “A business major like yourself, I’m sure you’ve got it all…figured…out.”

Sean blushed so hard even his neck turned pink. “I’m not sure…”

“It’s okay.” Harvey nearly pulled out a business card before realizing, yeah, he should definitely keep this as far away from work as possible. So he tore his deposit receipt in half, tugged a pen from his pocket, and jotted down his number. He extended the paper. “When decide you are sure - and you will be - give me a call."

Mouth still slightly agape, Sean took the paper from Harvey’s hand with minimal hesitation. Harvey turned to leave, but the kid’s voice stopped him.

“Hey,” he called. “How did you know I’m a business major?”

Harvey didn’t respond, just shot him an all-teeth smile and coolly walked away.

 

*

  **Tuesday,** **Day 1**

 

The knock on Harvey’s hotel room door at 11:07 pm was faint, almost timid. In fact, Harvey only heard it – over the buzz of the television – because he’d been waiting for it since Sean’s last text a few minutes earlier.

[10:53pm] Harvey: _Now.  
_ [10:55pm] Sean: _OMW  
_ [10:55pm] Harvey: _What?  
_ [10:55pm] Sean: _On my way  
_ [10:56pm] Harvey: _I don’t need a play by play, kid. Just get here._

When he opened the door, he jerked his head over his shoulder. Sean looked past him into the large room – it was huge and beautiful and literally a hundred times more sufficient than necessary – and then darted inside like a feral cat.

“I see you wore what I told you,” Harvey observed, nodding toward Sean’s simple outfit – worn out jeans, a threadbare grey tee and Nikes – with approval. “Good.”

Sean shrugged and smiled nervously, “It’s pretty much what I wear anyway, so it was easy.”

“Mm hm.” Harvey eyed him for a moment and the raised the glass of scotch he was holding. He walked toward the kitchenette. “Want a drink?”

“Um, no, thanks,” Sean said quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I actually had a couple already, next door, at the bar…I was just waiting there.”

Harvey nodded slowly, refilled his own glass, and then crossed the room to stand in front of him. “I don’t think I want you to do that again.”

“Oh…Sorry?” Sean looked worried so Harvey reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“I mean, I don’t want you to be drunk when you show up,” Harvey clarified. “So, if you want to have one or two when you get here, with me, that’s acceptable. But don’t throw back tequila next door before you show up. From now on.”

Stuttering, Sean shook his head. “So this isn’t like…a one-time thing? And how did…how did you know I drank tequila?”

“First of all, no, it’s not, unless you want it to be—,” Harvey told him, moving away to the couch. He grabbed the remote and turned down the volume on the TV. “And secondly, have you ever smelled tequila? Very potent," he gestured toward Sean with his hand, "It’s all over you.”

Sean hung his head, feeling like he’d screwed this up before it’d even started. But on closer inspection, Harvey didn’t look particularly upset. In fact, he looked very relaxed, his shirt open a few buttons and un-tucked, hair not gelled within an inch of its life as it had been when they’d first run into each other.

“I’m not drunk, I promise. It’s actually,” he looked down at his watch. “It’s been a while since my last drink. I swear. I was just hanging out there and I met this guy and we were just talking.”

Harvey looked up, “I believe you.”

With a relieved, full-body sigh, Sean nodded gratefully.

“Come here,” Harvey instructed, pointing to the seat beside him. Sean obeyed quickly, much to Harvey’s satisfaction, and sat down. “Let’s go over a few things, all right?”

“Okay.”

 “I only have a few rules, but they’re important, so listen up,” Harvey took a sip of his scotch and cleared his throat. “Number one, never show up intoxicated. I want you sober, unless I decide otherwise. Two, outside of this room, we don’t know each other – at all, period, end of story. And three, don’t ever call me. If I want you, I’ll text you. Objections?”

Sean shook his head slowly.

“Good,” Harvey said, satisfied. He reached across the space between them and slid his hand up Sean’s thigh, just letting it rest there heavily. “Do have class tomorrow morning?”

“No,” Sean answered. “Evening seminars.”

“I’ll make the transfer in the morning before I leave, then. This room’s booked until eleven, but I have to be to work at nine, so feel free to sleep in.”

“You…want me to stay the night?”

Harvey smirked. “It’s almost 11:30. You think I’m paying you over two grand for a few hours?” He gave Sean’s thigh a tight squeeze. “Yeah, I want you to stay the night.”

Sean ducked his head, and Harvey pulled his hand away, patting his own lap instead.

“Come here,” he ordered again.

At first, Sean looked confused, but he was a quick study. After a couple seconds, he was toeing off his shoes and moving to straddle Harvey’s lap, bracing his hands on his shoulders.

“So, Columbia,” Harvey said, putting his hands on Sean’s hips and guiding him down until he was sitting. “You must be smart as a whip.”

Sean shrugged, “I don’t know, not really.”

“Modest?" Harvey asked in amusement, though it was more of an observation. “Not the best quality for a Business major, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I’m definitely right.”

With a shaky laugh, Sean shifted his weight, his hands still resting on Harvey’s shoulders.

“You’re nervous,” Harvey noticed. “Why? Jesus Christ, please tell me you’ve had sex with a guy before.”

Sean nodded wildly, “Yeah, I have, I just never…”

“Gotten paid for it?”

He dropped his head and sighed, “Yeah.”

Grinning, Harvey snaked a hand around the back of Sean’s neck and pulled him down into a deep kiss. “Trust me,” he whispered. “You won’t mind.”

 

*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the responses! <3 also, still editing the last few chapters which is why this isn't rated yet (and for anyone reading Atlanta, don't worry....almost to that update too)

*

**Friday**   
**Day 76**

It’d been a whirlwind two and a half months. Since Sean and Mike had been spending inordinate amounts of time together – when they weren’t in school or at work, of course – it was an incredible stroke of luck (or lack thereof) that Harvey’s name _still_ hadn’t come up.

Yet, anyway.

For Mike, it was refreshing to have a friend again, and a good one, one he related to and identified with and could be himself around. Not a leech like Trevor, though they’d admittedly had their good old days.

Sean was different, and better, because like Mike, he _wanted_   to be on the straight and narrow, he just struggled a lot and did some dumb shit on the way there. Mike had found a kindred spirit – someone not above or beneath him, just right at his level. And the more time they spent together, the more flaws Mike uncovered, the more he was able to feel like he didn’t have to keep any secrets from him; the less insecure it made him that maybe Sean had an even tan or a four-year degree.

They were equals.

But this also meant they shared the same penchant for pot, and though they both tried to hold out, the temptation proved too great. Getting high alone was never as fun, in fact, it was depressing, which was probably why Mike lasted as long as he had without doing it. But now he had company, and the lure of that carefree feeling was so close, he couldn’t turn back. He felt a sharp pang of guilt, because he knew Harvey wouldn’t approve, but then again, Harvey had gotten high with him before. Sure, Mike knew it had been under the unspoken agreement that it was a one-time thing - to help him cope with his grief - but still…talk about a mixed signal. And Harvey was so dodgy around him these days, and recently too busy for him altogether, it seemed – so why was Mike even worried about what Harvey _might_ think _if_ he knew?

“My boss would totally kill me for this,” he said, with the slight cough of someone who hadn’t smoked regularly in a long time. His guilt was pretty evident.

"Mike, relax. It's just recreational," Sean justified. "Besides, it's not like we're dealing and I'm not setting you up to get busted like your asshole ex did."

Mike shook his head. "Trevor isn't my ex."

Sean took a long hit and scoffed. "If you say so."

"It's just that my boss doesn't want me to do it at all," Mike said, choosing to bypass the topic of Trevor. "So I still feel bad."

“Love hurts, huh?” Sean asked, laughing. There weren’t really any secrets between them now. Well, none except the obvious, but neither knew that was even a secret. Mike had admitted he’d fallen for his boss, but he hadn’t mentioned Harvey’s name. Not out of a conscious effort, just that it’d never come up. And if he was being honest, he kind of wanted to keep his and Sean’s friendship far away from work. It was an escape from the discomfort of a life he still didn’t feel like he deserved – and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Yeah,” Mike sighed. “Don’t rub it in.”

Sean passed him back the joint. “Why don’t you tell him? It’s gotta be better than just moping around or…something…”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” Sean leaned back against Mike’s couch. They burst into laughter and stared off in space for a while.

“I can’t tell him because I don’t wanna freak him out,” Mike eventually explained. “I mean, sometimes he does things or he says things and I think, you know, _maybe…_ but then I think about it some more and I’m like, no, not at all. It’s so frustrating."

Sean shot him a sympathetic look. “We should get high more often, it might help you stop brooding over him.”

Mike rolled his eyes on a sharp inhale. “Doubt it. How about you? How’s your…what do I call him? Sugar daddy? John?”

Sean scoffed, “John is too informal - it's not like I flagged him down on a streetcorner - and sugar daddy is too…relationship-y, I think. Is there an in-between?”

“Yeah,” Mike smirked. “’Guy who pays you a shit ton of money to let him fuck you whenever he wants’. Close enough?”

“Sounds about right.”

“So it’s a regular thing now, huh?”

 “Yeah, like three times a week.”

“Really?”

“More than that sometimes, except when he's too busy."

“Hm,” Mike hunched over the coffee table to roll another joint. “So has it gotten weird yet?”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “You mean, more than it already is?”

“No, like, you know, has he pulled out the whips and chains yet? And anyway, you told me it stopped being weird.”

“Ha-ha,” Sean said dryly. He rolled his eyes. “And no, he hasn’t. What I meant was, it’s not, like, awkward anymore. But the underlying premise is still…weird.”

“You still feel used?” Mike asked.

“Kind of.” Sean shrugged. “But not all the time, just like, once in a while. Mostly it’s just cool not being broke all the time, wondering how I’m gonna pay the bills, you know?”

“Yeah, I bet. Almost lost this place a few times,” Mike looked around his small apartment. “So what are you gonna do when…I mean, it can’t last forever, right?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been saving some of the money, so I’d be okay for a little while. But I’m kind of banking on him wanting to keep me around until the end of the year. Then I could pick up more hours at work, and I’d be on my feet long enough to find a job in my field.”

“You think he will? Keep you around, I mean?”

“I hope so. I don’t know. I kind of feel like he’s projecting on me. Not sure if that’s working in my favor or against it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Fuck, Mike. I’m stoned, I don’t know.”

Laughing, Mike grabbed a beer off the table and fumbled through the mess of magazines and fast food wrappers to find the lighter. “Well, you’re seeing him on a regular basis. I’d say he’s gonna keep you on his schedule for a while. He isn’t torturing you is he?”

Mike laughed loudly at his own joke and Sean glared.

“Shut up. And as a matter of fact, no, he’s actually really, really nice to me, okay?”

“Yeah, nice of him to pay a pretty penny for your ass.”

“Well, it’s more than you can say for your boss slash hopeless romance.”

“Ooh,” Mike winced. “Low blow.”

Sean gave him a playful shove. “Sorry.”

High and sated, Mike just slumped back and stretched. “It’s fine,” he said, smiling. “So how, exactly, is he ‘really really nice’ to you? I mean, other than the amazing sex, which, for the record, you don’t have to tell me about again.”

“You’re jealous.”

“No.”

“You are,” Sean insisted, amused. “And if you must know, he just makes me feel like…I don’t know. Like I’m not being a…whore, or, whatever someone would probably call me.”

“But I thought you said you felt used sometimes anyway?”

“Well, yeah, sometimes. But that’s just me, you know, like, beating myself up over it. Or residual Catholic guilt, who knows,” he waved the air dismissively. “It’s definitely not because of him. I mean, remember how scared I was that first time I was going to see him?”

Mike scoffed and grinned, “Yeah, fucking terrified. Shaking like a leaf…in a…bar.”

“Exactly,” Sean replied, nodding. “I was thinking he’d treat me like an object, but he doesn’t. And he compliments me—”

“Ha!” Mike slammed down his beer. “On what? Your blowjob skills?”

Shaking his head, Sean took a swig from his own bottle and then frowned. “Yeah...actually.”

Mike rolled his eyes.

“But what I meant was like, that I’m handsome or… _pretty…”_ He wrinkled his nose at that, but shrugged. A compliment was a compliment, right? “And smart. Etcetera.”

“Ah, _etcetera.”_

“Sometimes he orders pizza,” Sean added. “And when I don’t have class, he lets me sleep in and just check out whenever I want.”

“Okay, okay,” Mike threw up his hands. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I think I _am_   a little jealous.”

“Hah, told you.”

“Whatever. Just don’t get attached. I mean, no offense, but a guy like that? He’s gonna drop you one day, and he’ll do it hard and fast." Mike made scissors out of his fingers. "Just snip-snip and cut you off.”

“I’m aware,” Sean told him. “I’m kind of waiting for it. But I’m not attached, so really, it’s just a financial thing.”

Mike gave him a skeptical look.

“What? I’m really not attached,” Sean insisted. “That was actually one of his rules—”

“Ohh, the rules again. The ‘don’t show up drunk’ and ‘wear what I want you to wear’ and ‘don’t talk to me outside of the hotel’ rules?”

“Yeah, those. I mean, okay, I guess I’m a little attached, but not to him. He’s really not my type. I think I’m just attached to the sex and the money and—”

“Being spoiled?”

“Yeah.”

“Slippery-slope,” Mike warned with a raised eyebrow and a fleeting but wistful expression.

Sean tilted his head and then took a sip of beer, nodding in agreement. For a little while, they both fell quiet, just enjoyed each other’s company, the lull of being stoned with their worries someplace off in the future, and no pressure to fill the silence.

Eventually, their high faded, reality crept back in, and Sean groaned. He looked over at Mike, who had one foot on the coffee table, and looked lost in thought.

“What’s up?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re trying to solve the Da Vinci Code." 

“Oh…no.” Mike shook his head and was quiet. 

Glancing away for a second, Sean added, "Though I suppose that wouldn't be too difficult for you, actually."

After a minute, Mike finally cracked. “You’re wrong, you know,” he started.

Sean pushed up off the couch and wandered to Mike’s fridge. “You got any water in here?”

“Yeah, bottom drawer.”

“Thanks,” Sean said, grabbing a bottle and taking long gulp to wash down the taste of staling beer. “What am I wrong about?”

“He is nice to me.”

“Who?”

“My boss. Er, hopless romance, as you so eloquently and depressingly deemed it.”

Sean wandered back toward the couch. “I was just messing with you.”

“I know,” Mike smiled. “It’s just that, I know he can be a hard-ass and I know it’s probably unrequited, but he _is_ nice to me. I don’t even mean what he did to save my job like a billion times, but just, little stuff. Like sometimes I forget that I just invite myself over to his place and make him watch old movies with me and he never complains. And when we go out to lunch, he always pays, which, I mean, he should, ‘cause he makes way more than I do, but, you know. And sometimes he’ll make like, these comments and I don’t know…”

“Sounds like it might not be as unrequited as you think,” Sean observed. “I still think you should tell him. Or, fuck it, just kiss him.”

“Yeah, _that_ would go over well,” Mike scoffed. “I don’t know. I guess it’s mostly work-related stuff, but still. I mean, he doesn’t make me work with anyone else anymore, ‘cause he knows I hate it. Like you know that annoying lawyer I told you about?”

“Louis?”

“Yeah,” Mike sat up, looking almost proud. “I haven’t had to work with him in like a whole month, ‘cause Harvey basically told him to fuck off and leave me alone.”

Sean choked violently on a mouthful of water, the spray of it hitting his lap and even the table a foot away.

Mike looked over at him in alarm, “You okay?”

“Harvey,” Sean managed, still gasping and clearing his throat.

“What about him?”

Sean’s face drained of color. He hadn’t had enough time to consider the implications, but even just that split-second had been more than enough for him to realize the coincidence – as well as the unlikelihood of it being one. It wasn’t, by any means, a smoking gun, but it _was_ weird. It would have been weird even if he and Mike _didn’t_ look so much alike.

“Nothing…I…” Sean paused, unsure of what to say once he’d stopped coughing and his mind started functioning again. Surely it wasn’t…it couldn’t…it was nothing, probably. But then again, Harvey had never told him what he did for a living. Sean didn’t harp on it anymore, but occasionally, to entertain himself, he’d make guesses in his head. Finance, insurance, law, CEO, intelligence, FBI – all those fields had crossed his mind. But now, narrowing it down to law – it fit. It fit perfectly. Harvey had the on/off switch for a soul and the mild sociopathy and greed of a lawyer, plus he’d used a few legal terms during menial conversation that Sean had found interesting, but until now, it hadn’t been a dead giveaway. Yes, law definitely fit. And corporate law, at that. It explained the Wall Street vibe Sean had gotten. It explained a lot. But he still didn’t want to leap to any wild conclusions. He also still didn’t know Harvey’s last name. So he settled for trying to find a few more pieces of the puzzle, if there were any to be found.

“The bar we go to…” he began carefully.

“What about it?” Mike asked, confused.

“Is it close to your firm?”

 “Like twelve-ish blocks, I guess. Why?”

Swiveling his body on the couch cushion, Sean faced Mike and continued, “Remember last Thursday when we went out? But you had other plans?”

“Yeah,” Mike shrugged. “I was supposed to go to Harvey’s to watch the game, but he cancelled on me.”

“What did he tell you…I mean, what was his excuse? For cancelling?”

“Sean…” Mike frowned. “Where are you going with this?”

“Just humor me, Mike. Please.”

Mike ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, “Um, okay, sure... He, uh, texted me and said he was sorry but he had to meet a client. Said he’d DVR the game. We ended up watching it on Saturday.”

“Thursday Night Football,” Sean said. “That’s what, like eight to eleven?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And you and I hung out from like seven-thirty to nine-thirtyish, right?”

Mike nodded, “Yeah, ‘til your trust fund texted you and you ditched me.”

Sean looked back, face staid, but Mike still didn’t seem to have caught on just yet.

“What?” Mike laughed nervously. “Why are you quizzing me about last week? That’s not how my memory works, you know.”

“Mike, does Harvey wear a Rolex with one of those old-school black clips, like from the first edition?”

“Yeah, why, how did you kn—” Mike’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “What…”

“Look, it’s probably just a coincidence,” Sean said. He didn’t really believe that, but he felt bad, because if it was true – what the fuck did it mean? He knew Mike was head over heels. And they were friends. And he was…what, fucking the guy Mike loved? Not his fault, of course – he didn’t know – but still. Guilt began to settle heavily in his chest.

“Are you…” Mike shook his head, a bitter smile on his mouth. “You’re not…wait…his name…is _Harvey_ …too?”

“Yeah,” Sean told him, expression grim. “He’s never told me where he works or what he does, but he acts like a lawyer. I mean, all the rules and the terms…how did I not see it? The hotel is twelve blocks away. Mike, he cancelled game night because he was meeting _me_ there at ten. Which is why I ditched you.”

Mike shook his head wildly, “No,” he said, mind running rampant with confusion, trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle that was too incredibly _insane_ to even fathom. It couldn’t be. It was literally outrageous. A name, a watch, geographical measurement. None of this would hold up in court. In fact, it was so circumstantial it was practically irrelevant.

“Mike…” Sean sighed. Honestly, at that moment, he genuinely wasn’t sure who had worse luck – Mike or himself. It was like the universe was giving them both the middle finger, as if they’d tangled the web of fate by meeting in the bar that night, or blurred the lines of some parallel universe that was never meant to touch. And this was the catastrophic end result. “I seriously…I want to think these are just little coincidences but Mike, _look_ at us.”

It was undeniable. Perhaps those unlikely and implausible yet totally _possible_ things wouldn’t have been quite so telling – if not for the fact that Mike and Sean were practically mirror images. Next to each other, you could document faint but present differences. They weren’t _identical_ by any means. Side by side – hell, a dozen feet away – you could still tell them apart, though you might have to squint. But _separate_ them, get a wall between them, get one of them somewhere else – like a hotel bed in a dimly lit suite, for example – and, well, it was almost fair game.

Still processing, Mike stared straight ahead. He hardly even twitched.

Finally, he spoke up. “I think it’s just…um, I think it’s, you’re probably just getting confused…”

“Wait, _I’m_ confused?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, and there it was – _denial,_ clear as a bell, all over his face. He didn’t want to believe it. “I mean, we really don’t even know. It’s not like you know his last name or anything.”

“Want me to describe him?”

“No.”

“Give me your phone.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your phone, Mike, give it to me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fine.” Sean pulled his own phone out of his pocket. “Tell me his cell phone number.”

“I…” Mike's mouth gaped. “No. Why? What are you gonna try to call him or something?”

“No, I just wanted to compare the number _you_   have with the one _I_   have in my contacts under _Harvey.”_

Mike tensed and folded his arms defiantly.

“Mike, don’t you wanna know for sure? You’re the one who said—”

“I don’t care what I said! Besides, I doubt he gave you his real phone number. You could have Googled it and then that would defeat the purpose of him intentionally giving you so little personal information.”

A sharp beep stunned Mike into silence. He opened his mouth in shock when Sean held up the phone, pressed speaker, and it started to ring.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sshhh,” Sean held a finger to his lips.

Mike made a panicked grab for the phone, but Sean pulled it out of reach.

“Sean, seriously, don’t.”

“I know you don’t wanna know, Mike, but you need to. And so do I. I mean, Jesus Christ, you think I wanna be screwing the guy my friend is in love with, behind his back, for…for _money?!”_ He stopped and shook his head in disgust.

“Look, it’s almost midnight, so I don’t think you should be calling anyone,” Mike told him, desperate. The ringing continued, and the anticipation was making his stomach churn.

“Trust me,” Sean replied. “He stays up late.”

Mike widened his eyes and looked back, offended. “Wow, really?”

“I didn’t mean…Mike, I’m sorry, okay? I just want to know so we can both stop freaking out over this.”

Rubbing his hands over his face, Mike shook his head and stood up. He made a beeline for the sink, as if trying to distract himself from the inevitable. If it was Harvey’s phone, they’d surely get his voicemail soon. Mike started to rummage through his cabinets for liquor, but with every slamming door, he came up empty. Then, from several feet away, he heard the scratchy, annoyed, and devastatingly familiar voice.

_“I thought I told you not to call me?”_

Sean looked up at Mike, apologetic and a little despaired. He didn’t know what to do. Hang up? Keep Harvey talking? Tell him they’d figured it all out? Mike wasn’t helpful. He just stood by the counter, staring at the phone in Sean’s hand, his face blank and utterly colorless.

After a few seconds, Sean was forced to find his voice. He couldn’t ignore Harvey and he couldn’t bring himself to him to hang up on him either.

“Yeah, I…I know,” he stuttered miserably. “I’m sorry, I accidentally dialed you instead of my friend and I—”

“I don’t care,” Harvey interrupted. It didn’t sound like he was buying the lie at all. “I thought we went over this? If I need you, I text you. Remember?”

“Yeah, right, okay. I’m sorry.”

_“Sean.”_

Mike lurched forward by the sink, digging his fingers into his ribs. The sound of Sean’s name on Harvey’s lips - or, more likely, the _way_ Harvey said the name - made it feel like his heart was plummeting into his stomach. 

“Yeah?” Sean asked.

“Since you’ve already broken one of our rules, I suppose we can skip playing tag and just set up our next meeting now.”

“Oh…okay…” Sean looked helplessly at Mike for direction, tossing one hand up urgently and mouthing the words _Help_ and _I’m sorry._

Mike finally gave him a reluctant nod. He wanted to know but he didn’t want to know but needed to know. It was a contradiction that was ripping him to shreds inside. And really, he didn’t need this extra confirmation. They both already knew. But out of a morbid curiosity and deep insecurity, Mike still needed to hear it.

“Tuesday. Does that work for you?”

Mike nodded at him again to keep going, so Sean replied shakily, “Y-y-eah, that’s good.”

“What’s going on?” Harvey asked, voice suspicious.

“Nothing. What?”

“You sound weird. Are you sick? ‘Cause if you’re sick, I’m cancelling.”

“No, no, I’m not sick. Sorry, I was just…I’m studying, and I got distracted.”

There was a pause and then Harvey said, voice going oddly gentle, “Oh. Then I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Same time?”

“Yeah, the usual. But wear the blue shirt this time.”

“Okay.”

“And Sean?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever call me again.”

The call ended abruptly and Sean was left staring at his phone and then at Mike, who had grown even paler, if that was at all possible.

“Mike,” Sean whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Mike just shook his head, almost still in a daze.

“I had no idea,” Sean continued, getting to his feet. “I swear to God, I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Mike replied. His voice was weak and quiet. He gave Sean a faint smile. “I know you didn’t know.”

Relieved, Sean closed his eyes for a few seconds. “So you’re not pissed at me? Please don’t be pissed at me.”

“I’m not,” Mike assured him, and he wasn’t. Sean hadn’t done anything wrong. Neither of them had. Neither of them had even _known_ that the other one knew Harvey at all. Both of them had been completely in the dark.

“I feel awful.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“I know but…” Mike took a sharp breath. “I’m really not mad at you.”

“Okay,” Sean studied him. “Well...do you wanna sit down? You don’t look so good, man.”

Mike shook his head slowly, his mind still whisking through the evidence. What did it even mean? He had so many questions for Harvey that he felt like he was never going to ask because instead, he was going to explode with them all vying for release inside his head. All the things Sean had told him in the past flooded back to him. The things he’d confided in Mike about the man he was seeing. The man who, apparently, was Harvey. _Mike’s_ Harvey. The things he’d told Mike over casual conversations and cheap beer. Things like how the sex was _intense but amazing_ and how Harvey complimented him – _handsome. pretty_ – how he’d done things like run his hands through his hair and tell him he was _good_ and _perfect_ and _smart._ How he didn’t throw him out after, that he’d hold him instead, one arm slung around his waist, and how it was all bizarrely domestic – at least until about eight am when Harvey would shower and leave and they’d become strangers again.

Mike didn’t actually know what he was feeling in that moment, at the rush of those thoughts. It was all happening so fast, he couldn’t actually pinpoint any particular emotion. He couldn’t tell if he was angry at Harvey, or if he was jealous of Sean, or if he was insulted, or disturbed, or confused or all of the above. The creeped-out factor was much less ambiguous, however – that was one feeling his body quickly identified - and it locked a tight grip on his stomach. A wave of nausea crashed down on him.

He covered his mouth with his hand and pushed past Sean, crossing the room in a hurry.

“Mike…”

“I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered, shoving open the bathroom door. He made to the toilet by the skin of his teeth, leaned over and threw up repeatedly.

When he was finally done, he hobbled out, still clutching his stomach and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Sean stared at him in concern.

“You are not okay.”

“No shit,” Mike muttered, but it was more to himself than to Sean.

Sighing, Sean asked, “What are you gonna do? Can I help?”

“I don’t know,” Mike admitted, gingerly sitting back on the couch. “Do you…want to stay? I mean, I don’t know. I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

Sean responded in silence, taking a seat beside him and fishing the remote control from under a pillow. “TV?” he asked gently.

Mike nodded slowly and with a shaky breath he finally said, “Yeah. TV’s good.”

 

 *


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are awesome. Thank you sooo much for the kind reviews! In case this chapter seems to raise more questions than it answers, it'll all get cleared up in the next couple...though there's quite a ways to go. ;) Apologies for any typos I missed, I'm not running on much sleep... Also added some tags, including dubcon (in the sense that 'no' does not mean 'convince' me). Will add more as they become relevant.

*

 

**Monday  
Day 79**

Confronting Harvey was the obvious next step, but for Mike, that was a lot easier said than done. Three days went by and he was still no closer to working up the courage. And if Harvey knew that _he_   knew, he hadn’t picked up on it. Mike was doing a pretty good job of acting normally, though he did make an effort to distance himself from Harvey when possible, to limit the potential of slipping up.

He went to Sean’s place on Monday night – he conveniently lived in a less than stellar part of Brooklyn as well, so it was a short bike ride – to ask for some advice.

“I don’t know, man, I think you need to talk to him but I don’t know how you start a conversation like that.” Sean shook his head, clearly overwhelmed. “And, hey, you _do_ know he’s expecting to meet me at the hotel tomorrow, right? I haven’t even texted him to cancel yet ‘cause I feel so guilty about everything that my fingers shake when I try.”

“Stop feeling guilty,” Mike told him. “It’s not your fault and I don’t blame you. Honestly, _I’m_ the one who should be apologizing to _you.”_

Sean scoffed, “How do you figure that?”

“Uh, I’m sorry you had the misfortune of the letting Harvey Specter get his claws in you? I think that’s something else we both have in common now.”

“I guess. So what should I tell him? I was thinking of just saying I’m too tired or whatever from work and class, but I don’t know. I’ve never cancelled before. He’s gonna know something’s up.”

“I just…” Mike grimaced. “I wanna know if he’d come clean, you know? If I told him I knew. And it’s like, I don’t know if he would. And that’s what really bothers me. Not knowing if he might lie. It’s…kind of why I haven’t said anything to him yet. I’ve just been…avoiding him, which is really hard, since we work together, and plus, he knows I at least have a crush on him, so he’s gotta have started noticing I’m not following him around like a lost puppy anymore.”

“Yeah, you can’t keep that up forever, Mike. You gotta tell him. Why don’t you call him? You can do it now, and I’ll be here for, like...moral support.”

Mike gave him a weak smile but declined. “No, I…I just need a little more time, Sean.”

Sean looked back compassionately, “All right. Well, do you…do you want _me_ to do it? I mean, I won’t…and I wouldn’t, but…if you _wanted_ me to say something, like mention that I know…”

“To see how he’d react?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” Mike looked uneasy. “I don’t like the idea of tricking him.”

Sean let out a dry laugh, “The fuck do you call what he did to you? To both of us?”

“Yeah, I know, Sean but I’m still…I’m pissed at him too, okay, trust me, I am, but I don’t hate him. I never could. I’m just…confused. I just want him to be honest with me and I’m so pathetically terrified of how bad I’ll feel if he isn’t that I can’t even talk to him at all lately…about anything. Let alone _this.”_

“I know,” Sean sighed. “I get it, I do. I just wanna help.”

“I know and I apprec—hold on a second.”

“What?”

Mike turned toward him, “What if you don’t cancel?”

“Again…what?”

“I mean,” Mike elaborated, a clever glint in his eye. “What if you don’t cancel on him tomorrow? Just go and do what you’ve been doing for the past three months and –”

“Mike, are you _insane?”_

“What’s so insane about it, Sean? I need to see it, okay? I know that we know and you called him and everything, but I need to _see_ it. I know it sounds stupid and crazy but I just…I just do. And then I think, you know, I’ll be able to talk to him after.”

“This is _crazy,_ Mike. How do you expect me to have sex with him _knowing_ he’s doing this behind your back? Pretending that, what, that _I’m_ you? I mean, do you even,” Sean started to pace, his anxiety already spiking. “Do you even know how _fucked up_ that is in the first place?”

Mike dropped his head. “Yeah, I’m aware,” he muttered solemnly. “Listen, Sean, you don’t even have to stay, okay? Just go and then make up some excuse and leave. He’ll be pissed, but who cares, right? Or, just drink the edge off before you go there and—”

“Oh! Show up drunk and break one of Harvey Specter’s Fight Club rules? Brilliant idea.”

“Then _don’t_ drink and just fuck his brains out like you usually do! I don’t care! I just need to see that it’s actually him, with you. Because right now this whole thing feels like some sort of bad dream and I keep thinking I’m going to wake up, but so far I haven’t. It doesn’t even feel _real.”_

Sean stared back, expression staid. “Oh, it’s real, Mike.”

“Please,” Mike begged. “You said you’d help me.”

“This is not the sort of help I was talking about.”

Mike continued to look at him, desperate and pleading. “I’m not going to hate you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. If I’d have never found out, you’d still be going to see him tomorrow anyway, right? And I know you’ll stop, because you’re my friend, and honestly, you’re the best one I’ve got – how weird is that? But you know you need this money, Sean. Don’t try to pretend for a second that you haven’t been scared to death the past few days, counting up the number of months of school you can get through before your savings runs out. So what would one more night get you? How far does twenty-five hundred get a grad student these days?”

Sean looked down at his floor, at the used and worn linoleum it was, and then over to his kitchen table and pile of bills on top of it, and he knew Mike was right. With a heavy sigh borne of regret and self-loathing, he relented. “Okay. If you want me to do it, I’ll do it.”

Mike’s features softened in relief.

“But,” Sean added. “I want it on record that I think this is a bad idea.”

 

*

**Tuesday  
Day 80**

 

All day Tuesday, Mike’s nerves were on fire. He tried hard to stay away from Harvey when he could help it, but it was getting trickier and trickier and Harvey was starting to notice his avoidance. The fact that it was night and day from Mike’s usual clinginess was a red flag.

By the evening, he was getting increasingly nervous about his and Sean’s plan. But when Harvey approached his cubicle to make sure he was feeling okay, Mike had a fleeting moment of bravery. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what made him ask – pure masochism, probably – but he just _had_ to know.

“Do you, uh, wanna watch a movie tonight or something? I thought maybe we could…”

Harvey smiled warmly at him – and _fuck,_ Mike thought – but then he shook his head. “Sorry, kid, I…I can’t.”

“Oh,” Mike looked down, feigning surprise. The disappointment, though, that was real.

“Sorry, Mike. I have plans already. Why don’t we shoot for tomorrow?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll even pick the movie this time.”

“Okay.”

Harvey smiled again and Mike wanted to die.

“So you’re sure you’re not running a fever or something? You’ve been acting weird.”

Mike shook his head. “Nope,” he said convincingly. One thing Harvey had succeeded in, aside from making Mike fall in love with him, was teaching him how to lie like a pro. He was only surprised that Harvey ‘I Read People’ Specter fell for it at all. “I mean, I’ve been pretty tired lately, but I’m okay.”

“All right.” Harvey studied him for a moment, genuine concern on his face. Eventually he nodded, said goodnight, and walked away.

After he was out of sight, Mike sighed, sad and defeated. Harvey had really done it. He’d really blown Mike off to go fuck his lookalike. That was better than the real thing, apparently. Mike put his head in his hands and battled down a sob until it went it away.

 

* 

At the bar, Sean’s tension was running high too.

“I still don’t know about this,” he said, downing drink after drink.

“Sean…” Mike could see the anxiety bleeding through him, through them both. It was nearly palpable.

“I didn’t say I was backing out, Mike, I just said I don’t know about it, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

Sean choked down another drink. At this point, he wasn’t sure what it was, honestly, but it tasted strong.

“Look, don’t get so drunk you say the wrong thing or piss him off,” Mike said, sliding a half empty glass away from him.

“Fine,” Sean threw up his hands. “I’m done. No more drinks.”

“Good.” Mike felt relieved.

 “So, plan hasn’t changed right?”

“No, same as we talked about last night. We take the elevator first, then the stairs…you said that’ll give me a view of the door?”

Sean nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. He always books the same room, twelfth floor, second to last on the right, and the door to the stairs is at the end of the hall on the other side. But it’s a short hallway, so you’ll have a good view of it. I’m pretty sure there’s a wall that sticks out a little, near the elevator, so you can stand there and he won't see you.”

“Oh god,” Mike shook his head. “What are we doing?”

“Einstein’s idea, remember?”

“Right, right. So, okay, but how are you gonna get him into the hallway?”

“I’m gonna show up early, remember? I’ve done the math, he only gets there like fifteen minutes before me and pours scotch, which, if you ask me, is probably to drown his guilt.”

“Continue,” Mike ordered, rolling his eyes.

“So, I get there early, but I don’t have a room key, so I have to wait. He comes off the elevator, probably a little ticked I didn’t adhere to his strict schedule, but whatever. I stall him a few minutes outside the door, you get your visual confirmation, and then apparently I try to find a way outta dodge.”

“Okay. And you’re gonna have your phone on, right?”

“Yeah, on speaker in my pocket. But you better mute your end.”

“I will.”

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

“You know if he catches us, he might actually kill us both?”

Mike scoffed, took a long drink of beer and shook his head. “Not if I kill him first.”

“Please,” Sean rolled his eyes. “You don’t have the balls to _talk_ to him, let alone kill him. Instead, you’re conspiring with me to spy on him.”

“What can I say?” Mike sighed. “I’m in too deep and I’m spineless.”

“That’s what I like about you,” Sean joked, patting his shoulder. “But seriously, you _are_ gonna confront him after tonight, right? Promise?”

Mike gave him a firm nod. “I promise.”

They sat quietly for about twenty minutes. Sean rubbed his forehead, feeling a little lightweight from all of the liquor. He hoped he didn’t smell too strongly of it, but in the end he wasn’t too concerned. Mike sat next to him compulsively peeling the label on his beer before suddenly speaking up.

“You don’t seem very worried,” he observed, pointing to all of Sean’s empty glasses. “A couple months ago you’d been freaking out.”

“About what? Being tipsy or going all _Mission: Impossible_ on the guy keeping me above poverty level?”

“I was _talking_ about drinking.”

“Yeah, well,” Sean sighed, reflective. “Things change.”

Mike frowned thoughtfully. “You’re not afraid of him.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not afraid he’ll be pissed off if you show up a little drunk,” he specified, and maybe it was the beers he’d had to calm his nerves – although it wasn’t like he’d thrown them down or anything – or maybe it was just the outrageousness of the situation, but whatever it was, Mike laughed. “Which means one of three things – you don’t care, you know _he_ won’t care, or you know from experience that he’ll forgive you. So which is it?”

 “Mike…”

“Sorry. It’s just funny.” There was a tinge of sarcasm in Mike’s voice. “You know, because I’ve known him for over a year and I’m still fucking terrified of him.”

“Can we not talk about it?” Sean’s voice wasn’t hostile, but it was sudden and it was exasperated. “I’m the one who didn’t wanna do this to him in the first place. But here I am. So you're welcome.”

Mike went quiet for a few seconds, gears in his head turning. “Interesting,” he finally said, and Sean quirked a brow at him in question. Mike shrugged. “Just…I thought you didn’t wanna do this to _me._ And now you’re suddenly the Devil’s advocate.”

Sean huffed. “What do you want me to say, Mike? You want me to come out and say he’s a dick? Insult your horrible taste in men?”

“Well, he _is_ a dick. But I’m allowed to say it.”

“And _I’m_ not?”

“Because you really don’t think he is,” Mike told him. “That’s why it pisses me off that you keep defending him.”

“I’m not defending him!”

“You are,” Mike insisted calmly. “You know that at some point, I’m gonna tear him to shreds, he’s gonna find out we’re friends and then you’re gonna have to choose – me or Gatsby?”

Sean shook his head. “Whatever.”

“You don’t work for him,” Mike continued. “He doesn’t throw three days worth of files in your lap and tell you have it done in one. He doesn’t yell at you one second and then let you sleep on his couch the next—”

“Probably because I get the bed.”

Mike swallowed hard against the mouth of a mostly-empty beer bottle, Sean’s words like six individual barbs cutting into his skin.

“I’m…sorry. Mike, that was...I didn’t mean—”

He decided to ignore the interruption altogether – it hurt less that way, even if only a little. “So my point is, you only see one side of him, so you think he’s great and flawless but he’s not.”

Sean opened his mouth, gaping at Mike incredulously. “Okay, _first_ of all, I don’t think he’s great and flawless.” He turned his body to face Mike. “And second of all, do you think I know him better than you? Or do you think we just fuck without ever saying a single word to each other? Which is it, Mike? It can’t be both.”

Mike didn’t look at him, muttering, “I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t.” Sean stood up abruptly.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“To piss!”

Sliding off his seat, Mike followed hurriedly. “Sean—”

“I’ve told you three times, Mike, he’s not my type,” Sean called over his shoulder. “So chill.”

“No one has a _type_ , Sean! That’s such bullshit. You can say you do you but until you meet someone, you have no idea what kind of person you like. And you know—”

“Look, if you’re worried I’m backing out, don’t be, all right? I told you I’d do it and I will. But stop telling me that I’m defending him.”

“I’m just saying that you—”

 _“Shut up!”_ Sean spun around to face him outside the men’s room, his breathing harsh. “Just shut up, okay? ‘Cause for the first time in months, you’re reading me all wrong, Mike. In case you forgot, he walked up to me with _one thing_ on his mind. And no matter how many times he times he fucks me, or tells me how good I am, or how smart I am, the fact that he only wanted me in the first place because I reminded him of you is _never_ gonna change. Nothing I do is gonna make _me_ option number one.”

Mike scoffed bitterly, “What? You think Thursday night football was the only game night he ever ditched me on because he decided to see you instead?” He shook his head, turning away at the thought. “Give me a break, Sean. If either of us is option _one_ around here, it sure as _fuck_ isn’t me.”

“Jesus Christ, Mike!” Sean jabbed a finger at him. “Forget the tier, okay? ‘Cause look around. There isn’t one! You said I don’t work for him? Try again. We _both_ work for him. We both have our fucked up lives in his hands and trust me, he knows it. I stop fucking him, guess what? My bank account dries up. My tuition goes unpaid, I drop out, go back to making 9.50 an hour. I can’t send my brother - Prodigal Son - canteen money, and _voila!_  My parents have another reason to never talk to me. You stop being his associate, _your_ bank account dries up. You call up your ex—”

Mike glared.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sean made air quotes with his fingers, “You’re _friend,”_ he amended sarcastically. “You two start dealing again until a few years from now when you’re back in a hotel with another briefcase full of pot but instead of Harvey Specter, this time you just run into the fucking cops!” He took a deep breath, “Trevor sells you out - again - you go to jail, where I’m pretty sure they don’t give a shit whether or not your IQ is higher than their population. Hell, maybe you and my brother end up sharing a cell. Sound about right?”

"No." Mike told him, unconvincingly, though he felt a little nauseous. “You’re wrong,”

“Am I?” Sean asked. “I don’t think I am, and I think you know it. We’re _both_ at his mercy. So you can talk about who he’s putting first all you want, but here we are. Together. In a bar. On a Tuesday. For the same god damn reason. You’re the genius, Mike. Do the math.”

Sean took another breath and continued, watching Mike’s head fall. “So am I relieved Harvey doesn’t treat me like a complete whore? Yeah. Do I wanna throw him under the bus? No. But am I _defending_ him for this?” he paused, his voice cracking. “No, Mike…I feel like shit. I _hate_ him for this.”

Mike looked up in time to see that Sean’s eyes had gone glassy.

“And by the way,” he added, pushing open the restroom door and glancing at Mike over his shoulder. “You said nobody has a type. But I think we both know someone who does.”

He turned away and the door closed slowly in Mike’s face.

Defeated, Mike just retreated back to the bar and waited.

 

A couple minutes later, Sean returned with his face buried in his phone.

[10:19pm] Harvey: _I’ll be there in 15_

“It’s him,” he announced, sounding a little deflated from their disagreement.

“Where is he?” Mike asked. “Don’t tell me he’s already there.”

“No. He’s on his way though, so we should head over. You ready?”

“Yeah,” Mike breathed in slowly and swallowed down any remaining nerves or guilt. “Ready. You?”

“Not at all.” Sean shook his head. “But let’s get it over with.”

“Hey.” Mike reached out and tugged on his shirt. “I’m sorry for…you know. Are we okay?”

“Yeah.” Sean nodded slowly. “We’re good.” He motioned toward the exit and gave Mike a faintly forgiving smile. “Come on, Austin Powers.”

 

*

“Stop admiring the hotel lobby and let’s _go!”_   Sean hissed, swatting Mike on the neck and receiving a strange look from the night auditor.

“Sorry,” Mike murmured, taking one more glance around before following him to the elevator. They rode it to the eleventh floor – one floor beneath the one where Harvey had booked the usual room – and then headed toward the stairwell.

“Remember, I’m gonna call you. So make sure yours is on silent and the _second_ you answer you better put it on mute.”

“Relax, I will.”

 _“Relax?_ I can’t relax! How are you not freaking out right now?”

“I _am_ freaking out,” Mike admitted. “Inside. Trust me, I’m a mess.”

“Well, good. ‘Cause I feel lower than someone who beats up little puppies.” Sean tugged him up the stairs. When they emerged on the twelfth floor, he pointed down the hall. “See that cleaning cart?”

Mike nodded.

“That’s the room.”

“Shit, I do have a good view.”

“Yeah, but you gotta stay behind this wall until he gets off the elevator.”

“Okay.” Mike knelt down just beyond the edge of it. If he peeked around the corner, he had a perfect line of vision to the elevator and the hallway just outside of their room. His heart pounded. “Go.”

Nodding, Sean took a deep breath and headed down the hall. Mike flattened his back against the wall, pulled out his cell phone, put it on silent, and waited. He could feel his pulse in his throat. After a few minutes, his screen lit up.

_Sean calling…_

He answered with a hushed whisper.

“You’re muting me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike told him. “Hey. Good luck.”

Sean mumbled in reply and then Mike pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed mute. As the last smart move in what was definitely an awful idea, he pulled earphones out of his pocket and plugged them in. Then he put one side in his ear - and waited.

After about three more minutes, the elevator dinged. But when Mike looked, it was just an old lady shuffling off. He thought he was going to pass out. In fact, he was on the brink of panicking and making a run for it when the elevator hummed and the doors opened again.

Harvey.

Mike felt like his insides shifted when he watched him walk onto the floor. He looked stunning, just this side of casual but, of course, not too casual to be Harvey Specter.

A short distance down the hall, Sean was sitting down in front of the door, another strategic tactic in their genius and yet ill-advised plan. That way, when Harvey approached him, Sean would stand up, his back facing the hotel room door. This would make it difficult for Harvey to simply open it with his keycard, allowing Sean to stall more easily, and forcing Harvey to stand face-to-face with him – so that Mike could see them both clearly from where he was hiding.

And he could hear their conversation as it began, and clearer still through his earphone.

Harvey was nearly to the door when his voice cut in first.

“You’re early.” He observed, though didn’t sound angry. It was a relief, but not a huge surprise, for Sean, who quickly got to his feet and tucked his phone into the front pocket of the blue v-neck tee he was wearing, the one Harvey had requested.

“Yeah…”

Harvey didn’t wait for an explanation. He came to a stop only a foot away from Sean, slid his arms around his waist and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

Mike’s throat tightened. From where he was standing, it could have been _him_ and Harvey. No one would’ve ever been able to tell the difference. But Mike could, and he knew Sean, and he knew all of their differences, and seeing it – well – it was just as hard of a blow to his heart as Sean had warned him it would be. If only he’d listened.

The kiss went on for a while and Mike had to lean against the wall just to hold himself up. He watched Harvey tug Sean closer until their bodies pressed against each other, and Mike could hear the muffle as Sean’s phone brushed against Harvey’s chest.

“Missed you,” Harvey mumbled, when they finally parted.

Sean just nodded.

Harvey reached into his pocket and pulled out the room key, reaching around him to open the door, and then ushered him inside and closed it behind them.

Mike’s front row seat had vanished, but his audio was still strong. He decided to leave while he’d still be unseen, so he took the elevator to the lobby, and hurried next door, where he sat down outside the bar and put both earphones on.

So far, there was nothing more groundbreaking than what Mike had already found out three days ago. Harvey and Sean made small talk, Sean admitted to drinking before he’d shown up because he "was stressed about school", and Harvey – seemingly in a good mood – brushed it off.

“It’s all right,” he said, taking a sip of scotch and walking up to Sean, who was standing a few feet away and doing a pretty decent job of acting A-okay. Harvey wrapped his arms around him again, and Mike could hear the contact. “School can be stressful.”

“Yeah,” Sean agreed, hugging back. “You, uh, you never told me what you went to school for.”

Harvey laughed, low and warm, and Mike shivered. “I don’t think you need to know that.”

Sean shrugged. “I know but…” he ran his hands up and down Harvey’s back and put on his best boyish smile. “You know all this stuff about me and I don’t know anything about you.”

“Fuck,” Mike muttered. “Don’t push it, Sean.”

“I think you know enough,” Harvey said, pulling back to kiss him again. But Sean nuzzled his neck and he caved. “Okay, kid, if you must know. Law.”

 _Kid._ Mike flinched.

“I knew it,” Sean lied. Except, it wasn’t really a lie now that he did know. “I mean…I could totally tell.”

“All right,” Harvey said patiently, as if putting up with the childishness was a very small inconvenience or, possibly, even a perk. He trailed his hands further down Sean’s body, and then began tugging at his belt.

Mike could hear the clink of metal and the rustle of clothes and his muscles stiffened.

“You know w-what,” Sean stuttered between breathless kisses and Harvey’s hands intent on getting him undressed. “I just, uh, realized I have…um…I have this exam tomorrow…I should probably…I really didn’t study at all.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Harvey breathed against his neck. “You bailing on me, kid?”

Mike leaned his head against the brick building and laughed bitterly at the lame excuse. Surely Sean could’ve thought of _something_ better than that. “Just do it, Sean,” he said apathetically, to no one but himself. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Uh, no,” came Sean’s response. “I just forgot about it…it’s a big part of my grade…”

“Really?” Harvey asked, almost amused. He sucked on Sean’s neck and pushed his jeans off his hips. “An exam two weeks before midterms?”

Sean moaned and Mike closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Ah, yeah, it’s…”

“Look at me,” Harvey ordered, tilting Sean’s chin up. “There’s no exam is there?”

Sean blinked and shook his head, wanting to bolt. “No,” he squeaked.

“Hm. So tell me what’s really going on—”

Mike held his breath.

“—Or be quiet and get out of these clothes so I can make you forget all about your fake school problems.”

Lost for another way out, Sean nodded and gave in to Harvey’s wandering mouth and hands. In the end, they felt too good and he was too nervous to think up a better reason for needing leave - besides the truth, of course - and he couldn’t bring his legs to run for the door. So he let Harvey keep going, let his jeans fall down to his ankles, let his shirt be pulled up over his head, let Harvey’s tongue push into his mouth over and over, hot and filthy and indicative of what was to come just like every time before.

On the other end of the line, it was muffled. Sean’s phone had fallen out of his shirt and both items had landed on the floor. Mike could still hear, but not as clearly as before. And he wasn’t so sure he wanted to keep listening now that he knew what was happening. In fact, he was only a few seconds away from hanging up - but apparently, a few seconds too late.

Satisfied with Sean’s decision, Harvey whispered, _“Good boy.”_

Mike tore the headphones from his ears and hit the _end call_ button almost violently. This had to be his worst idea to date - and he'd had a _lot_   of bad ideas. Feeling a swell of emotions in his chest - none of them good - he pulled his knees toward his chin and without a thought to passing pedestrians, he sat there outside the bar and cried.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sean was paraphrasing _Magnum P.I._ when he said, "Well good. 'Cause I feel lower than someone who beats up little puppies."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps back in time a bit, but it shouldn't be too confusing (hopefully). It fills in some blanks, but couldn't necessarily come first. And thank you all for the love! <3
> 
> Added some tags. As always, please forgive any typos I've missed.

 *

**Monday, Day 44**

 

Mike was fresh out of the shower, squeaky clean, in his favorite jeans, a blue v-neck he wore far too often, and smelling like cologne. It was cheap cologne, but he liked the scent. Not as much as, say, the kind Harvey wore – which he could never quite get close enough to identify – but his standards (and budget) weren’t as high as Harvey’s, so it had to suffice.

He looked in the mirror and wondered if maybe he was overdoing it. It’s not like he was dressed up by any means, but it was evident he didn’t just throw on the nearest thing he could find, either. And all for a football game in Harvey’s living room where no one else would ever see him. It was times like that he thought he had to be transparent. But in the past, during any of their impromptu movie nights, Harvey never acted like he’d found Mike out. On most occasions, he’d do a brief but noticeable scan of Mike’s body that Mike just chalked up to habit – from all the times Harvey had done the same thing at work, because of the whole _You’re a reflection of me_ spiel – and then the evening would progress normally. It was always comfortable; like working, except with food and quotes and banter and none of the actual work. Butterflies would thump around in Mike’s stomach several times, particularly when Harvey would hand him a beer and their fingers would graze, but other than that, it seemed like it could all be categorized as two friends hanging out. And Mike had to remind himself of how that was unprofessional enough as it was, given that Harvey was his boss. But he had trouble giving that thought much weight, considering that their relationship had never really been all that professional to start with.

The only thing that confused him – aside from his own feelings, of course (which he thought he was doing a fairly decent job of keeping under wraps) – was the squirrelly way Harvey would end their nights: like everything was perfect but when the food was finished, the plates in the dishwasher, and the credits rolled, suddenly and inexplicably, he would white-knuckle grip his glass of scotch or his beer and exit the living room swiftly, his mood suddenly unreadable. Like Mike was lava he’d gotten too close too.

The first few times, Mike had gone home. But once, he was so exhausted by the time _Full Metal Jacket_ ended, he fell asleep on the couch. At work the following morning, he apologized, but Harvey had only grunted in reply and handed him a stack of briefs to look over. After that it progressed to Harvey just telling him to say, throwing him a blanket and pillow before retreating to the bedroom. Initially, Mike felt like a nuisance. But Harvey never shut the door in his face whenever he showed up with a DVD, which Mike had decided meant he wasn’t _that_ much of a nuisance because he knew for a fact Harvey was absolutely capable of not letting him inside, seeing that he’d done it before.

Mike eventually stopped harping on Harvey’s end-of-the-night ritual and just started enjoying his company. That much, at least, was definitely requited, if nothing else.

While their occurrences of hanging out outside of work had lessened, he’d just chalked it up to them each being busy, and Harvey having other obligations. As much as Mike liked the thought of being the center of Harvey’s attention, he was practical enough to know that was both unlikely and unfeasible.

He had no reason to believe tonight would be any different from all the other times, but because they were less frequent, he was particularly looking forward to it. In fact, he wasn’t even a big Giants fan – not even a big _football_ fan in general – and he knew Harvey was partial to baseball, but you couldn’t be a New Yorker and miss a home game when you had a massive flat screen TV and a free Monday night. But Mike would enjoy the game anyway (because sports of any kind were at least entertainment) for the benefit of hanging out with Harvey, who he knew would be looking as handsome as ever in his casual attire and smelling like whisky and that damn untraceable cologne. So it was all a win-win.

Feeling a warm rush of anticipation under his skin, Mike grabbed his wallet and a jacket and left the apartment.

 

*

  
Harvey was slow to open the door this time, and when he finally did, Mike realized why.

“Is that food?” he asked, practically drooling.

“It won’t be if I burn it,” Harvey told him, leaving the door open and heading to the kitchen with an oven mitt.

Mike groaned, “I’m starving.”

Harvey looked at him over his shoulder, not inconspicuously. “Clearly.”

Looking at the floor, Mike reminded himself briefly that Harvey _always_ got what and who he wanted, so if he happened to have any interest in him – as more than a workaholic genius by day and intermittent platonic companion by night – Mike figured he would definitely know. And so far he just didn’t, so he dismissed the gaze.

Resigned, he rounded the kitchen, kneeled up on a stool and leaned over the marble countertop on his elbows.

Harvey approached with a plate of food, stepping in close and sliding it right under Mike’s nose.

“Did you always climb on furniture when you were a kid?” he asked, smirking. “Or is that a habit you picked up here?”

“I don’t—” Mike frowned, brain faltering as it did on rare occasions when he was flustered or hungry or both. Harvey’s face and the food in front of him were rival distractions.

“Last week you climbed on my stove to reach the cereal. And then you sat up here and ate it.”

Mike felt his face go a little red. “Sorry,” he muttered, trying to focus on eating.

He felt Harvey’s hand gently punch him in the shoulder, and caught the trace of a smile on his face. Mike exhaled quietly.

After a few minutes, Harvey made his own plate and then dragged a seat in front of the counter on the opposite side.

“I can’t actually stay and watch the game,” he confessed, his words slow, face apologetic.

“What?” Mike looked up a little quicker than he intended. He could live without ever seeing the Giants decimate the Eagles, and technically, he could live without sitting one foot away from Harvey while it happened, too, but the latter would just hurt a lot more.

“I mean, uh…” he dropped his head and poked at his food with a fork, making an effort not to sound so wounded. It wasn’t like they’d been hanging out a lot the past couple months anyway. Harvey’s schedule had been consistently ‘crazy’ for a while now, which Mike did believe was work-related, to an extent, but also dejectedly concluded probably involved lots of one-night stands that he was getting in the way of. “Why?”

Harvey took a drink of water cleared his throat. “Client,” was all he said.

Frowning, Mike glanced up again. “Oh. Saulwell?”

Harvey nodded. “If I reschedule him for tomorrow, Jessica will never put my name on the wall.”

“So…”

“You can stay and use the TV if you want.”

“I don’t want to watch the game _alone_ , Harvey.” Mike replied miserably, with a half-hearted eye roll. He chewed quietly for several seconds and then realized he sounded a bit petulant. It’s just that he felt like he got replaced a lot by client meetings these days, by dinners, and lunches, and partner-only events, and whatever else it was Harvey did that Mike wasn’t allowed to tag along for. But Harvey didn’t actually owe him anything – quite the opposite, really – so Mike wished he could snatch his whine out of the air and shove it back into his voice box.

Before he could apologize, though, Harvey beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” he said, earnest, standing up and abandoning his plate.

Mike smiled weakly, and then his eyes flashed with hope, “Want me to come? I could take notes.” He pointed to his head and grinned.

Harvey looked grateful for the sentiment but said, “No.”

“I could be useful. You know Saulwell talks really fast and you’re always asking me to repeat what he said.”

“It’s just about the financials, Mike. I can leave your brain at home for this one.”

“But I have literally his entire file in my head,” Mike persisted, and it hit him – right then and yet much too late – just how pathetic he sounded. Was he really begging Harvey to take him to see a particularly obnoxious client? _After hours?_   “I could help you—”

_“Mike_. Jesus Christ. I said no.” Harvey pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked exasperated, if not particularly annoyed.

Mike felt his chest tighten, like it did on the common and memorable occasions that he fucked up and felt awful because of it. Only those didn’t usually involve Harvey, not directly, anyway. Usually it was just him fucking up his own life. And even though he and Harvey had seen much tenser times, had experienced actual fights, traded harsher words – this instance felt unsettlingly more insidious; uncomfortable in a way Mike had never felt sitting in Harvey’s condo before. Suddenly he just wanted to vanish.

“I…” He pushed his plate away, appetite fading, and looked up cautiously. “Did I, uh, do something…wrong?”

Harvey shook his head. He’d taken his frustration with himself out on Mike in a moment of weakness, and even if he apologized – again – the damage was already done. He could see it on Mike’s face and the pain was almost tangible.

“No,” he sighed. “You didn’t.”

He left the kitchen then, went into the bedroom, leaving Mike staring at the counter, his food going cold.

Mike felt like an idiot. He knew Harvey cared about him – actions spoke louder than words and all that – but he wasn’t presumptuous enough to think they cared about each other in the same way. With Harvey it was all about loyalty and trust and some sort of responsibility. Mike verged more on devotion and love – he believed there was a difference, somehow – and none of it came from any sense of obligation. And yet, here he was, pushing and pushing until inevitably Harvey pushed back. It was the epitome of their relationship, really; each of them wanting more or less from the other but never knowing what or how much and in the end, one of them always wound up pissed off. It didn’t usually last long – they always reconciled – but now Mike was starting to think maybe _he_ was the problem. Maybe he was the reason he hadn’t been sitting in Harvey’s condo as often the past couple of months. Maybe he needed to back off.

Numbly, and still prickling with hurt feelings that he would never admit to anyone, he cleared the dishes, discarded the leftover food, and cleaned them both in the sink. It seemed silly to start the dishwasher for only two plates.

Harvey came up behind him, dressed in a suit for the second time that day – lest the aura of Specter Power appear insufficient – and nudged his shoulder.

“Mike,” he said.

Mike turned around, gaze landing first on Harvey’s tie and then on his mouth, and finally on his eyes. There was something in his expression that Mike thought he’d seen before, somewhat recently, but he still couldn’t place it. It bordered on _sorry_ but... that wasn’t exactly it. It was a deeper confliction; an internal struggle Mike couldn’t decipher.

“Stay,” Harvey told him. “You’re already here. Watch TV, whatever. Call that friend of yours that you’re always hanging out with. He can come over too.”

“Really?” Mike’s eyes lightened a little in surprise.  

“Sure.”

“Are you coming back?”

Harvey broke eye contact and looked past Mike to a random cabinet. “Barring I don’t choke Saulwell to death and end up in jail? Yes.”

Mike couldn’t help but giggle a little at that. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

 

After Harvey left, Mike wandered to the couch and sat down with a sigh. He thought for a moment, and eventually pulled out his phone, planning to send a text to Sean. When the screen lit up, he was pleased to see that he already had several of them. It quelled a bit of the loneliness in his chest that Harvey’s empty living room emphasized.

[8:54pm] Sean Westlee: _Night classes are the worst  
_ [8:54pm] Sean Westlee: _I’m done by the way wanna chill_  
[9:01pm] Sean Westlee: _What are you doing, taming the shrew??_  
[9:03pm] Sean Westlee: _asshole_

Smiling, Mike shook his head.

[9:28pm] Mike Ross: _LMAO_  
[9:28pm] Mike Ross: _I’m at my boss’s place_  
[9:29pm] Sean Westlee: _ohhhhhhhh ;-)_    
[9:29pm] Mike Ross: _yeah right_  
[9:29pm] Sean Westlee: _ah sorry. Movie night?_  
[9:30pm] Mike Ross: _Giants game but he had to do a work a thing so he left  
_ [9:30pm] Sean Westlee: _Sorry man_  
[9:31pm] Mike Ross: _oh well._ _not the first time not the last I’m sure  
_ [9:31pm] Mike Ross: _wanna come over? He said you could._  
[9:31pm] Sean Westlee: _yeah?_  
[9:32pm] Mike Ross: _yeah come on I’m bored as fuck_  
[9:32pm] Sean Westlee: _k where’s he live_

Mike sent him Harvey’s address and then tossed his phone to the side and turned on the TV.

 

When Sean showed up about twenty minutes later, the Giants were winning – Mike wasn’t surprised or impressed – and Harvey’s scotch stash was being rifled through.

“Nice of you to text me back just as I was three feet from getting on the 1 train,” Sean announced, as he entered. He glanced around and, “Holy shit.”

Mike scoffed, “Right?”

“I can’t believe he lives here.”

“I told you.”

Sean shook his head. “You didn’t go into detail.”

“Sorry…” Mike rolled his eyes and began to survey the many bottles of elite whisky he’d pulled out and lined up on the counter. If Harvey could ditch him for a client and not even request to have his brilliant mind on hand, then Mike could pillage his liquor cabinet. Or, well, probably not, but – it sounded justifiable in his head. “I must’ve been one-upped by your description of the five-star hotel you get fucked in.”

“Whatever.” Sean shrugged and took one more look around in awe before joining Mike at the counter. He stared down the bottles of varying color, age, and quantity. “Damn. Are we allowed to be touching this?” He paused and looked down at his outfit – the usual jeans, sweatshirt, and overused sneakers – and wrinkled his nose. “I feel like _I_ shouldn’t even be allowed in here.”

Mike broke the seal on a particularly expensive looking bottle. He couldn’t pronounce the name but he thought that probably meant it was even better. “I get away with a lot,” he said, smirking. It was both an exaggeration and understatement, and Sean seemed to pick up on it.

“And you tell me he thinks you’re _just_   his friend.” Sean scoffed. “Please.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m also his indentured servant.”

“Sounds hot.”

“Not _your_ kind of servant.” Mike raised a glass, full to the top. “Want some?”

“Yes, but if he notices it’s gone, I plead the fifth.” Sean accepted his own glass when Mike finished pouring. “And I’m not a servant. Servants don’t get paid as well as me.” He flashed a grin, but it quickly fell glum; the telltale sign that things could be worse, but still, selling his body had become a necessary evil and it didn’t always make him feel great.

Mike gave him a commiserative glance. He led them to the living room where they both fell onto the couch.

“I have twenty bucks on Philly with this douche in my Telecommunications seminar.”

“Only twenty bucks?” Mike took a generous gulp of scotch. “Where the fuck is all your money going?”

Sean pretended to be reproached. “Uh, I don’t know, the cost of fucking living?”

Mike shrugged. He had a point.

“Ugh,” he muttered, after a moment, Sean’s words dawning on him. _“Philly?”_

“Well, I’m not from New York, moron. Remember?”

“Vaguely.” Mike did, but it was more fun this way, so he just sipped his drink and grinned. “Who bets on preseason anyway?”

They watched the game for about half an hour, talked over it at several turns, and it wasn’t long before the Eagles threw an interception, and then another, and fell painfully behind in less than two quarters. Sean flinched.

“Maybe you could ask your _client_ for a raise,” Mike joked. “Tell him you lost a bet, you need an extra twenty on top of the excessive amount he already pays you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Technically I’m a genius.”

“You have no street smarts.”

Mike laughed into his tumbler. “And you do? Mr. I-talk-to-strangers-who-ask-for-sex-because-I’m-broke-and-they’re-hot.”

“That was a lapse in my brilliance,” Sean countered. “Or, some might even say, a peak in it. But anyway,” His face fell a bit, “Desperate times, desperate measures, you know.”

“I know.” Mike nodded once. After a few seconds he turned toward Sean and said, “I don’t see it anymore…”

Sean looked up. “Huh?”

“Your eyes don’t have dollar signs in them anymore when you talk about it.” Mike pointed. “But there is _something_ in them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What, are you, like, investing it? ‘Cause something tells me these are still desperate times but I don’t think your motive is just about—”

“Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t.”

Mike put up his hands defensively. “Just an observation.”

“You would know all about it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means you think I’m getting too close but you’re the one sitting here drinking your boss’s scotch – which, by the way,” Sean stopped and looked into his glass. “Is like fifty years old and probably five thousand dollars, but, anyway,” he motioned at Mike. “You’re just hanging out here? And he’s fine with it? And he cooks you food? But he’s totally out of your league, so it all means nothing?”

Mike looked away. Much to his frustration, he’d drained all of his liquor. Still, he hovered his mouth over the edge of the glass anyway. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Something like that.”

Sean shook his head just as his cell phone buzzed inside his pocket. Still looking over at Mike, he took it out absently and finally glanced down at the screen.

[10:41pm]  Harvey: _Need you._

“Oh.”

Mike snapped out of his trance. “What?” He noticed the phone in Sean’s hand. “Who is it? Gordon Gekko?”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Says Bud Fox.”

“I thought you didn’t see him on Thursdays.”

“I don’t…usually.” Sean shrugged. “It depends.” He stared at the message as if it might change, or come through the phone and bite him. He was okay with money as long as he continued the arrangement as it was. An extra twenty five hundred would help – a lot – but he didn’t desperately need it at the very moment. So why couldn’t he say no?

“Depends on what?” Mike asked, with a rough laugh. His eyes looked a little glassy, like the scotch had gone straight to his head. And it probably had. It was a large glass, he was a skinny person, and he hadn’t eaten substantially since lunchtime. “If he can’t get any at home?”

Sean typed a quick response before he could have time to regret it.

[10:44pm] Sean: _Tonight?_

When he was done, he set the phone down in his lap with a harsh slap and glared at Mike. “Why are you being such a jerk tonight?”

Mike felt a little dizzy. A comeback seemed like too much effort, and all he could think about was what Harvey had said earlier – _Mike. Jesus Christ. I said no. –_ so he went with a sarcastic, “I have no idea.”

He was sorry, but through his haze he just couldn’t say it.

Sean stood up, phone under his thumbs.

[10:45pm] Harvey: _Yeah, tonight. Now. Come on._  
[10:45pm] Harvey: _I’ll make it worth your while. I always do. Right?  
_ [10:45pm] Sean: _Yes._  
[10:46pm] Harvey: _Well?_  
[10:46pm] Sean: _I’m not very close to the hotel it’ll take me a while_  
[10:46pm] Harvey: _Where are you? I’ll pick you up._

“You’re going, aren’t you?” Mike asked distantly from the couch. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much. But Harvey had ditched him for a client and now Sean was doing the exact same thing. There was a stupid football game on a stupid TV and he was drinking Harvey’s stupid scotch and it was making him feel…stupid. And jealous, though he wasn’t sure of whom. Saulwell, probably. And the rich asshole who was taking Sean’s company away from him. And lonely, for all the same reasons.

“I sorta need to,” Sean told him, wincing a little because it wasn’t entirely the truth. And, when he looked back at his phone, he knew that Harvey knew it too.

[10:47pm] Harvey: _I’d tempt you with more money but I don’t think you need the extra incentive_  
[10:47pm] Harvey: _You can’t justify using your tight ass to earn any more than what’s necessary to just get by. But you want to see me anyway._  
[10:47pm] Sean: _Fuck  
_ [10:48pm] Harvey: _That’s what you want.  
_ [10: 48pm] Harvey: _I always make you feel so good, don’t I?_

Sean was at a loss, his heartbeat picking up under his chest.  
  
[10:49pm] Sean: _I’m coming_  
[10:49pm] Harvey: _Good boy_

Fuck.

Mike was waving at him from the couch because Sean’s guilt was like a plague – rampant and contagious. “Go. Get out of here.” His voice was softer now, still edged with whisky but less bitter. He smiled weakly and pointed to the television. “I don’t think Philly’s coming back from this. Looks like you owe Telecommunications Douche twenty bucks.”

Sean smiled back, relieved, and nodded. “I guess I do.”

He walked out the front door and when he was gone, Mike’s smile faded quickly. He was thinking too much. Taking everything too personally, over-examining his relationships, or lack thereof, and it was driving him mad. He needed to let to go. He needed to go to bed.

Neglecting to put any of Harvey’s liquor back where he’d found it, he shut off the TV, curled up and promptly fell asleep.

 

*

 

Saulwell was a client who went on and on like a drone, and after two hours Harvey was regretting having not brought Mike along with him. Honestly, he usually delegated all the work regarding this case to him anyway, only because he couldn’t stand the guy and Mike obviously would’ve dealt with anyone if Harvey requested it.

However, Harvey had a feeling that either way, Saulwell was going to bore him into a coma long after they’d already discussed the financials of the merger, and he was going to end up ordering one too many drinks. And, because Harvey was professional and responsible, he’d had the forethought to _not_ let his associate tag along when he knew Mike would just sit there looking pretty and sounding brilliant while he got increasingly drunk and his resolve began to slip. Better to leave the temptation at home altogether.

When Saulwell finally ran out of breath, Harvey found a window of silence to cut in, thank him for his time, shake his hand, and insist he have a good night. Then Harvey paid the tab, stood up, and walked out as quickly as he could despite his mildly affected sense of balance.

Not that he’d planned quite so far ahead, but the restaurant where he’d met Saulwell was only a few blocks from the Plaza. All Harvey had really known was that he was going to end up drinking to occupy his time while Saulwell rambled on and on about the history of his company (for the eight time – that week alone), that Mike could not be there, and whatever happened after that, well, he'd left it up in the air.

But on his third drink, he’d texted Sean under the table.

[10:49pm] Sean: _I’m coming_  
[10:49pm] Harvey: _Good boy_

He could have gone home, and he wanted to, but that was just as risky of an idea as bringing Mike along would have been. Picturing that Mike had probably nosily thumbed through his records and maybe even discovered his top shelf liquor, he was probably sprawled across the couch with one leg hanging off the side, and that image further solidified the fact that Harvey _definitely_ could not go home. There was just too much too lose if he crossed that line. 

So, outside, he made quick work of the distance and arrived to his pre-booked suite about fifteen minutes before Sean knocked on the door.

Harvey opened it, his eyes especially dark, and hauled him in by his wrist.

“Are you drunk?” Sean asked, because he could smell liquor on Harvey but it wasn’t the usual. It wasn’t scotch. Vodka?

Harvey laughed, his breath warm on the side of Sean’s face, his arms sliding around his chest, pulling him tight against him. “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “Late meeting.”

“Oh.” Sean looked up, half-frowning, half-smirking. “There isn’t another one of me, is there?”

Harvey scoffed. “No.” But he looked away. “Work meeting.”

“Ah,” Sean nodded. “Well, I had to check since you refuse to tell me what you do for a living.” He paused and then smirked. “Are you part of the mafia?”

“Maybe.”

Sean laughed. By this point, he was used to Harvey’s varying greetings. There were only a few, really, depending on the day or the night. Sometimes they talked for a while, had a drink, or even watched the tail-end of a sitcom, if it was already on, before any clothes came off. Occasionally, things went a lot faster, only a few minutes to take in the now-familiar suite before Harvey was breathing hot against his neck and claiming his mouth.

Sean was also fairly accustomed to his demeanor, as well as the shifts in it, at least considering the circumstances. Most of the time it was consistent: calm, friendly, attentive, purposeful. And now and then it was noticeably gloomier, brooding, maudlin, and in the beginning, Sean never commented on it because he didn’t think Harvey wanted him to, he wasn't being paid to be a shrink, and it wasn’t his business anyway. It never seemed to affect the way they had sex, at least, not significantly. But more recently, Sean had made the leap, asking Harvey what was wrong one night when he was sipping his scotch extra slow and his eyes were off somewhere in a daze. Looking back – and really, it’d only been a couple weeks earlier – he thought he should be surprised that he _wasn’t_ surprised Harvey had given him a legitimate answer – “Tough week” – and the realization that they weren’t strictly bodies had started setting in.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Sean concentrated on the present.

Harvey was pressing his nose against his neck and inhaling. “You smell good.”

“I smell like I’ve been sitting in class with two hundred other sweaty twenty-something’s, walked to the subway, went to a friend’s house, and sat in a taxi for twenty blocks.”

“Mm,” Harvey nuzzled his throat. “I don’t care.”

Sean struggled. “Harvey, I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry.” Harvey loosened his hold, spinning him around and cupping his jaw. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Sean rested his forehead against his chest. None of it even made sense. Harvey wasn’t his type. Was hot, and handsome, and paid him way more than he thought he could ever be worth – but still, not his type. Not the type he’d created in his head when he was nineteen and he went to a bar and saw a guy his own age with tattoos and an Army tee. But here he was, burrowing his face into Harvey, smelling his cologne, loving the attention, and, if was being honest, feeling oddly protected - which in and of itself was interesting, considering how terrifying Harvey had initially come across. 

Between work and class and keeping his head above water, Sean didn’t have time to troll bars for those mid-twenties Army guys anymore. His parents were estranged from one another and living in separate places somewhere in Jersey, though last time he called, nobody answered. His sister was in the Peace Corp, hadn’t seen her in three years, and his brother was a member of the NYDOC, more commonly referred to as – he squeezed his eyes shut – fucking prison.

So the point was, regardless of the money involved, Harvey made him feel like he had somewhere to go – someone who was expecting him to show up, and who _might_ give a shit if he didn’t. Which wasn’t exactly enough to negate all the downsides to what they were doing, but as a business major, he’d learned a while ago that it was tricky to solve a problem without creating another.

“What do you want?”

The question was so gentle, Sean hardly heard it over the sound of his own thoughts. He looked up. “Huh?”

Harvey kissed him and then lifted his chin with two fingers. “What do you want me to do? I’ll do whatever you want. Tonight I just want you to feel good.”

Sean hesitated. Harvey was never self-serving – he always paid close attention to what Sean needed too – but he did always call the shots. He just did what he wanted and usually Sean loved it – or was paid enough not to complain if he didn’t – so it didn’t really matter that Harvey never specifically asked. But now he _was_ asking and Sean…didn’t know how to respond to that.

Fortunately, he could stall, because Harvey leaned in and kissed him again, all tongue, stroking his mouth, fingers still pressing gently into the flesh under his jaw.

“Anything,” Harvey told him, dropping his hands to Sean’s shoulders and squeezing. “You’re so tense. Is it from school?” He rubbed his muscles hard.

Sean groaned. “Yeah, probably.”

“Mmm,” Harvey purred against his ear and Sean realized he was still waiting on an answer.

“But I’m supposed to do what _you_ want.”

“Yeah. And what I want is to give you what you want.”

“Fuck me then,” Sean told him, looking up confidently, a rush of excitement spiking through him.

Harvey met his eyes curiously. “Hard? Slow? Deep?”  

“All of the above.”

 

*

**Tuesday,**   **Day 45**

When Harvey walked into his office around nine thirty, Mike was on his couch, face buried in paperwork, the picture of productivity. There was a bottle of Advil and water beside him, though, so Harvey deduced that something was wrong and Mike was just powering through it as he usually did.

“Headache?”

Mike looked up. “Sort of. From, uh, the scotch, I guess.”

“My scotch?” Harvey raised an eyebrow and sat down at his desk.

“Yeah, and sorry I left it on your counter but—” Mike frowned and thought about the emptiness of Harvey’s condo that morning. “Nevermind. I forgot. You didn’t come back last night.”

Harvey stared for a couple seconds and then, not too dryly, replied, “Sorry, Mike. I haven’t had a curfew since I was your age.”

Annoyed, Mike just went back to his work. Eventually he heard Harvey sigh from across the room.

“Mike. I’m sorry I didn’t stay for the game. Saulwell thing got…a little complicated.”

“It’s fine,” Mike muttered. He wanted to ask exactly how complicated the meeting with Saulwell had actually gotten if it kept him out literally all night. But he had visions of Harvey flirting with a hot waitress, promising her a night of passion before remembering Mike Ross was probably passed out on his couch, and had to divert to a hotel or something. “It was dumb anyway.”

“Yeah? Dumb how?”

“Dumb like we both knew New York was gonna win and they did. And anyway, it’s preseason, so who gives a shit?”

Harvey ignored the irritation in Mike’s voice and made a signal with his hand as if to say, _touché._ “Did your friend come over?”

Mike looked down and mumbled, “Yeah.”

Watching him, Harvey still felt a little bad, but he was relieved to know Mike hadn’t actually spent the night completely alone.

But then Mike spoke up again. “He couldn’t stay though.”

And Harvey felt the vague flare of his conscience. “Oh. Why not?”

But Mike wasn’t going to tell Harvey – king of climbing the ladder – that his new best friend was a college student by day and escort by night because Sean didn’t deserve to be on the end of his elitist judgment.

So, with a sigh, all Mike said was, “He just had somewhere to be.”

 

 *


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kind comments and kudos on the last chapter! It really makes my day :) As far as this chapter goes, I think I was exhausted when I wrote it, because when I edited it I found a ton of typos, so apologies if I missed any. And I'm hoping no one is too OOC here, but going between the three of them, sometimes I confuse myself. 
> 
> Warning: It's pretty much 6k of angst. And italics.

*

**Wednesday, Day 81**

 

Eyes still red-rimmed and bloodshot from a restless night of crying – and maybe a little smoking – Mike was a pitiful sight on Wednesday morning, two days after hearing Harvey’s voice on the other end of Sean’s phone and one day after witnessing it all firsthand at the hotel.  

He sat in his cubicle for over two hours, delaying the inevitable, which was – walking into Harvey’s office to give him a file he’d requested.

At nine forty-five, Mike got a text from Sean.

[9:45am] Sean Westlee: _How are you doing? I’m so sorry.  
_ [9:45am] Mike Ross: _I’m okay. At work. Don’t worry about it. You did what I asked.  
_ [9:45am] Sean Westlee: _k. Please talk to him today. Are we still hanging out Friday?  
_ [9:46am] Mike Ross: _I will. And yeah. My place?  
_ [9:46am] Sean Westlee: _Yeah sounds good. I’ll bring some beer. Good luck._

Mike texted back _thanks,_ and put his phone away. He stared at his computer for fifteen more minutes before prying himself away and making the dreaded approach to Harvey’s office.

When he passed Donna’s desk and walked inside, Harvey was on the phone. He looked up and gave Mike a smile and held up one finger. It was night and day from when Mike first started, when Harvey would yell at him for barging into his office. Now Mike barged in all the time, often when Harvey was on the phone, and the worst Harvey did was motion for him to sit on the couch and wait. None of this was helping how awful Mike felt. If anything, for some reason, it was making him feel even worse.

Finally, Harvey hung up and pointed at the file in Mike’s hand.

“Are those the Milfield briefs?”

Mike nodded, barely able to make eye contact. He walked over and set them on Harvey’s desk and then hurried toward the door.

“Mike, wait,” Harvey called, and Mike froze for a second before turning around. “Are we still on for tonight?”

 _On for tonight._ Harvey made it sound like a date, but Mike knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t a date at all, never was. They were colleagues, friends, or whatever; hanging out, watching a movie, eating dinner. Perhaps Mike had hoped they were dates, but they always ended the same way: with Harvey fleeing to load the dishwasher like he’d been electrocuted, and Mike falling asleep on his couch. The funny – or sad – part was that Mike was okay with it. Ideally, he’d always wanted more than that with Harvey, but he had so much fun on those nights that at some point he’d decided if that was all he ever got, it would be okay, because having part of Harvey would be better than having none of him. So Mike had tried to make peace with it, thinking Harvey didn’t and wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. And then Sean happened and now Mike didn’t know what peace even was.

“Um,” he stalled. _Did_ he still want to see Harvey after today? Who was he kidding. Of course he did. He was just still angry to the point of being almost verbally incapacitated. How could he hold out until tonight? Better yet, how could he laugh and pretend nothing was wrong all night while they dined on takeout and made fun of terrible green screens? But whether Mike could actually do it had no bearing on his answer – he couldn’t tell Harvey no. In fact, before he’d even realized he was talking, he said, “Yeah, definitely.”

Harvey nodded and Mike smiled faintly in return before walking out.

 

*

All of Mike’s anger and pain was doing nothing to give him the courage to actually face Harvey. Instead, just before he left for the day, he headed back to his office and backed out of their plans.

“I, uh, I forgot I already made plans, actually,” he announced lamely from the doorway. It was a lie, but it was about time he put Harvey second, for his own wellbeing. “So I can’t. Come over.”

Like salt in a wound, though, Harvey hardly looked up. “Fine, Mike,” he said casually. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was no asking why, no asking who his plans were with, not even a joke about him having any to begin with. Nothing.

Mike bit back a scream, shook his head and left for the last time.

 

*

Sean was sitting on his bed, half studying, half falling asleep, when he got a text. Assuming it was from Mike, he grabbed his phone.

[9:03pm] Harvey: _What are you doing?_

He didn’t expect _that._ But out of habit, or some impulse he didn’t care to investigate, Sean texted him back.

[9:03pm] Sean: _You won’t believe me, but I’m studying. Why?_

Then he sent a far more urgent message to someone else.

[9:04pm] Sean Westlee: _You didn’t talk to him?!?!?!_  
[9:04pm] Mike Ross: _sorry, tried, couldn’t. getting drunk now._  
[9:04pm] Sean Westlee: _WHAT THE FUCK MIKE_  
[9:05pm] Mike Ross: _I don’t want to talk about it. give me some more time_  
[9:05pm] Sean Westlee: _That’s what you said yesterday_  
[9:06pm] Mike Ross: _I lied. I’m tired. I’ll see you Friday._  
[9:06pm] Sean Westlee: _Fine._

Sean sighed and gently tipped his head back to hit the wall in frustration. His phone went off again.

[9:06pm] Harvey: _Take a study break._

 _Shit._ Sean knew he should ignore it. He didn’t feel right engaging in even the slightest communication with Harvey after Monday, and particularly not after last night, the proof of which he could still feel in several bruises on certain parts of his body. And he wasn’t sure it was his place to intervene, either. But seriously, how much time did Mike need? And why hadn’t he just exploded by now?

[9:08pm] Sean: _I’m at home…I have early classes tomorrow  
_ [9:08pm] Harvey: _And my place is closer to Columbia than Brooklyn  
_ [9:08pm] Sean: _Your place?_  
[9:09pm] Harvey: _Yeah. Don’t make a big deal of it. Just come over._  
  
Sean’s hands went clammy. He felt like he was in the crosshairs of something really bad; at the center of a time bomb just waiting to go off. And suddenly all he wanted to do was defuse it; get out of the line of fire before the whole thing drove a wedge between him and Mike that was too wide to repair.

[9:10pm] Sean: _Ok. Give me like 30 mins though_

He took a deep breath, threw on some clothes, tossed his books into his bag, and left the apartment before he could think better of his decision. He was just going to talk to him. Sort out this disaster once and for all, because, hell, it _was_ his place to do so as much as it was Mike’s. That’s what he kept telling himself as he stepped outside and walked toward the subway.

[9:14pm] Harvey: _Don’t you need directions, Columbia?_

Sean felt his chest constrict. Not even there and he was already fucking up.

[9:14pm] Sean: _Yes._

 

*

Sean tried to hide his nerves when he walked into Harvey’s condo, but he had a business degree, not a Golden Globe. It was hard not to look at least a little freaked.

But he managed to make a cursory glance around in awe. He could’ve cut to the chase, admitted he’d been there before, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the best way to start the conversation. As if there would be a particularly good one, of course, but still. Better to not risk it all immediately going to hell.

He’d also hoped for a little grace period between walking in the door and being groped, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards tonight. Harvey was kissing him and tugging at his shirt before he even made it into the living room.

“Worth the trip?” Harvey asked rhetorically, pulling their bodies flush.

Sean frowned and dropped his backpack onto the floor. “You never ask to see me on Wednesdays,” he mumbled, because as long as he was running his mouth, the chances of Harvey kissing him dropped. And that helped Sean’s guilt complex from becoming any more unbearable.

“Change of plans,” Harvey told him simply, dipping back in to lick his throat.

“Are we…not using the hotel anymore?”

“I haven’t decided. But I didn’t feel like going there tonight.”

It occurred to Sean that he wasn’t option one tonight, despite Mike’s claims. He was a backup. “Ah. You didn’t know you wanted to see me until you were already home.”

“If that’s what you want to think, kid,” Harvey breathed, not real interested in Sean’s self-deprecation. He trailed his tongue up and down his neck. “You’re never going to make it in Business.”

Sean gasped at the contact of Harvey’s mouth on his skin. “Thanks a lot.”

“Not ‘cause you’re not smart. ‘Cause you have no ego.”

“I have an ego. It’s just not as obnoxious as yours.”

Harvey laughed. “No you don’t. Although I did think I was giving you one.”

“Actually, I…” Sean closed his eyes. Why was it so hard to just _say it?_ “Uh, can we talk?”

“You can talk.” Harvey slid his hand into Sean’s waistband and lifted his mouth to his ear. “I’ll listen.”

Sean tensed and pulled away. “No, seriously, can we just talk? I need to tell you—”

Frustrated but patient, Harvey looked back and relented. “All right.”

“Um…” Sean stared past him into the living room, toward the tall windows he could only see the lights of the city through. He felt like he was under a microscope, and yet, Harvey still didn’t seem remotely suspicious – at least not for the right reasons. Finally, Sean got a fleeting jolt of bravery and hurriedly blurted out, “I can’t sleep with you anymore.”

It was a start.

Harvey just looked at him, finally noticing the way he looked nervous, uncertain; exactly how he’d looked last night when he’d pretended to have to rush home and crack open his books for a phantom test.

“Really?” Harvey just smiled. “So Columbia’s all set then?”

“First of all…” Sean sputtered. “Don’t call me that. Secondly, I don’t want your money, okay?”

Harvey looked away. “Here we go,” he sighed.

“I’m not saying I don’t _need_ it,” Sean admitted. “I’m saying I can’t take it because—”

“Look, Sean,” Harvey moved even closer, putting two hands on his hips and steering him toward the counter. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t pay you. No hotel. No Lotus.”

“You don’t have a Lotus.”

“I could if I wanted.”

Sean tried not to laugh, but failed, pressing his face against Harvey’s bicep. He thought he could find the words if he just waited another minute, but that minute passed, and then another one quickly followed, and before he knew it, Harvey’s hands were trailing down his waist, pushing his jeans off and then his boxers.

“No,” Sean shook his head. “I really can’t, I…”

“Can’t what?”

“We can’t have sex.”

 “Fine. We won’t,” Harvey told him, leaning in and whispering roughly, “Just let me get my tongue inside you.” He licked a path along Sean’s jaw to drive home his point.

Sean shivered at that, and Harvey’s words. “That’s…the, uh,” he stuttered. “The _definition_ of sex.”

“Mm, yeah. But it’s not my dick.”

“Semantics.”

“Are you arguing semantics with a lawyer?” Harvey pulled back and grinned, unsure if he was impressed or amused or both. “Maybe you do have an ego.” He patted the counter with his hand. “Up.”

“Up?” Sean looked uncertain at the least. “On it? It’s probably like a billion dollars.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harvey replied, grabbing Sean’s hips and almost effortlessly hoisting him up on the edge. “I bought it.” He put one hand on his chest and pushed. “Lie down.”

“Harvey, I really—”

“Come on,” Harvey pressed a hard, convincing kiss to his mouth. “Then we can talk all about whatever has you so worked up. And I’m pretty sure it isn’t the money.”

With a shaky nod, Sean gave in and fell onto his back, the coldness of the countertop hitting his skin even through his shirt. He felt Harvey’s hands tugging his ass to the very edge and guiding his legs up over his shoulders, and then warm lips were making contact with the skin on his thighs, trailing gentle kisses up and down, and all Sean could think was, _Oh fuck,_ and _Why am I doing this?_

Harvey worked his way to his ass, spreading him open and sliding his wet tongue in between, licking slowly up and down, satisfied when it resulted in Sean arching his spine and moaning. It wasn’t exactly the most practical position – with Harvey standing and leaning down, Sean’s legs pulled up a little too high and resting, a little strained, over his sturdy shoulders – but Harvey was making up for it in spades.

Sean always felt like his nerves were on fire when Harvey did this – in a good way, of course. Except tonight, as he looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, he also felt a stab of guilt shoot through him so sharp he couldn’t believe it didn’t split him in two.

 _“Fuck,”_ he breathed, involuntarily, when he felt a spit slick finger pushing inside him. Harvey dragged it out torturously slow and then quickly replaced it with his tongue. Out of both frustration and pleasure, Sean groaned and continued mumbling an incoherent string of, _“Unnh, fuck,”_ and _“I…god…Harvey, we have…you have to stop.”_

Harvey lifted his head, tilted it, and smirked. “You want me to stop?”

Sean leaned forward a little, chest heaving gently, silently cursing both of them. He reached his hand up to rest it on Harvey’s head, with the intention of pushing him away. But he was so hard now, his legs trembling, and Harvey was licking his lips teasingly, and Sean lost all resolve – he curled his fingers into Harvey’s hair and pulled him back down.

Biting his lip, he closed his eyes again, and through the haze, he berated himself: He was the worst friend in the world.

 

*

Mike had puttered around home for a while after work, his mind still running wild with frustration. He’d wanted to rewind the day – march into Harvey’s office first thing that morning and scream at him. But he’d missed his chance. Then he’d cancelled their plans, so he’d missed another chance. Now he had to wait until tomorrow, which felt like a lifetime away with how pissed off he was.

Sean had texted and that had only upset him more. Did he think this was easy? That Mike could stomach it all in under three days? Or break the news over coffee? Or say, _Hey, Harvey, by the way, that kid you’re screwing who looks just like me? Yeah, that’s the friend I’ve been telling you about. Anyway, I filed that subpoena for you._  It wasn’t easy. It was damn near impossible.

He’d tried to get drunk after that, but he hadn’t been to the store in weeks so the most he could find were three beers in the far back of his fridge and that – that hadn’t done a damn thing.

Aggravated to the point of almost not even caring anymore, he’d stormed out of his apartment and headed to Harvey’s, eventually sending a text to Sean to let him know he’d worked up the nerve.

[10:42pm] _Ok I’m gonna do it_

And yeah, Mike had cancelled his and Harvey’s plans, but so what. Most of the time they didn’t plan ahead anyway, he’d usually show up and march in and nine times out of ten, Harvey would indulge him. Even if Mike was still pissed off, and even if things were completely, _painfully_ unresolved, it didn’t change the fact that he still wanted to see him. He felt like an idiot for ever pretending otherwise.

He was going to tell Harvey he knew, but he hadn’t planned on how. He didn’t want to do it in a fit of fury, and if he didn’t say something soon, that’s how it was all going to play out and that wasn’t how he wanted it to happen.

Mike also knew if it wasn’t one of the first things out of his mouth, then anything Harvey might say – any lie that might escape him – would be another dagger in Mike’s heart he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle.

So he gathered up all his nerve, closed in on Harvey’s building, and, shaking his head, vowed to put together a calm, coherent sentence in the next five minutes. He was smart. He could do that.

 

*

Sean was arching off the marble countertop, his back curved, one hand twisting hard in Harvey’s hair, the other jerking himself rapidly, a litany of curses and pleas flying out of his mouth – _“Fuck, fuck, Harvey, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop”—_ as he came hard all over his shirt with an erratic jolt of his hips.

For a minute, his mind went pleasantly blank. It was almost like Monday and Tuesday had never happened at all; almost as if he was back in the hotel room a week ago, blissfully ignorant to who Harvey really was, aware only of the fact that he was rich, and nice, and knew _exactly_ what to do with his tongue, and in bed – or, apparently, in a kitchen – they were so compatible Sean always felt like he was on the verge of seeing stars by the time they were done, all his problems in the real world slipping away for a while.

He was waiting for his breathing to return to normal when Harvey pulled him up, off the counter, and against his chest.

They stayed like that for a long time, until Sean’s mind finally cleared – and then reality set in like the bitch that it was and he was about to bolt like his blood had been replaced by regret and jet fuel.

But, of course, Harvey’s voice froze him in place before he could move.

“Are you hungry?”

Sean frowned. “If that’s some sort of insinuation…”

“It’s not,” Harvey laughed, pulled away and walked to the sink to wash his hands. “I was honestly asking if you were hungry.”

“I…” Sean struggled for words for what seemed like the eighth time that night alone. He grabbed his boxers and jeans off the floor and put them on in a clumsy fumble of limbs. He wanted to say no. And in lieu of just fucking telling Harvey the truth, he needed to get the hell out of dodge. But Harvey had never offered to feed him before. It wasn’t necessarily out of character anymore, the more he thought about it, but it _was_ unexpected. So Sean was tempted to see just how serious he was. In some bizarre plot twist, Harvey had already let him in his home. Would he really _make dinner_ too? Eventually, Sean’s curiosity and hunger won out, though he still felt heavy under the weight of his shame. “Sure, but…wouldn’t you be bending the rules?”

Harvey was opening cupboards, only his back visible. “Yes,” he said, over his shoulder. “But you calling me the other day was breaking them.”

Sean swallowed hard.

“And,” Harvey continued, though his tone was playful. “Letting you come over here was, too. If I want to bend my own rules, I can. But if you get all sentimental, I’ll bend them back. So, do you want food or not?”

He turned around and looked at Sean expectantly.

Sean nodded.

“Good.”

“Uh, bathroom?”

Harvey pointed across the room, “Left then right.”

Sean was about to walk away when he glanced down at his shirt. Harvey seemed to follow his line of vision, because he looked up and smirked. “You can borrow one of mine. There should be a couple in the closet.” He turned away and then called, “Not the grey one!”

 

When Sean returned, half-drowning in a black long-sleeved Henley, Harvey followed his movements with his eyes, all the way to the kitchen.

“If you’re about to tell me I look better in your shirt than you, don’t bother, I know.”

“I wasn’t.” Harvey scoffed.  “But you might come in a close second.”

Sean shrugged and laughed, against all logic telling him he shouldn’t. He _shouldn’t_ find Harvey charming anymore.

“You mean third.”

Harvey looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“Huh? Nothing,” Sean swiped the air and inwardly scolded himself. He masked the rising panic in his chest with a smile.

He knew that he should be pissed off at Harvey, above all else. And he was, he _really_ was, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not yet. Not now. Not when Harvey had finally unveiled some other part of his life to him, allowed him into his apartment, was making him dinner like he was a person, maybe even a friend, maybe something else, but definitely not _just_ some guy he was screwing.Not _just_ a whore. No money had changed hands – or, more accurately, bank accounts. In fact, Harvey hadn’t even gotten off.

Something had shifted again.

Before, Sean might’ve been more confused. It was weird that Harvey was breaking so many of his own rules so suddenly, but the rest of it added up now that Sean knew he’d been some sort of projection of Mike – and probably still was. And it made him even more frustrated that Mike was putting off confronting the man, because Harvey was clearly just as far gone but didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

And then there was the fact that as much as Sean hated himself for this – more than last night, since this time had definitely _not_ been orchestrated by Mike – he couldn’t help but still be a little reluctant to flee. It was warm in here. Harvey didn’t know they’d figured it out, so he was still treating him like gold. And between endless work and non-stop studying, it was an interlude that Sean desperately needed. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Mike that Harvey wasn’t his type – it was the truth. But what Harvey _was,_ was kind and handsome and good in bed and literally keeping Sean fed and enrolled – and he was there, present, giving Sean all of his attention, and Sean was too busy and too exhausted to find that someplace else. Even though he knew he should.

Closing his eyes in exasperation – at his own indirection, no less – he made his way into the kitchen.

“Pasta?” Harvey asked, brushing past him.

Sean nodded. “Yeah. That’s good.”

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

[10:42pm] Mike Ross: _Ok I’m gonna do it_

This was what he wanted, and if Mike would just fucking do it, it would spare Sean of having to take on the daunting task himself – which he was clearly so incapable of doing, further proven by the fact that he’d come here with the intent to confess and wound up half-naked instead.

But upon getting the message, his heartbeat still sped up nervously.

[10:42pm] Sean Westlee: _Good  
_ [10:42pm] Sean Westlee: _Tomorrow?  
_ [10:43pm] Mike Ross: _Tonight. I just wanna get it over with_

_“Shit.”_

Harvey turned around from where he stood by the stove. “What?” He eyed Sean’s phone. “Who’s that?”

“Um, nothing…” Sean said way too many things aloud when he only meant them to be a passing thought. “My friend, he’s just...” He intentionally trailed off and to his relief, Harvey lost interest and went back to cooking.

[10:44pm] Sean Westlee: _Are you calling him?  
_ [10:44pm] Mike Ross: _What? No, I’m going over there. Fuck it._

Sean felt another, much more powerful spike of panic course through him. He’d waited way too long to say anything and now it felt far too late to break the news to Harvey – at least not in a way that Sean didn’t foresee would end very, very badly – and he was at a complete loss for any other solution.

Finally, adrenaline kicking in, he said, shakily, “Harvey, I can’t stay, I’m sorry, I have to leave. Now.”

He was halfway out of the kitchen when Harvey’s arm caught him around the waist. “What’s the rush?” he asked. His tone was light, but his expression was concerned. _Concern,_ Sean realized, again – _not_ suspicion, at least not yet. And fuck, that made it all so much harder.

“I just…my friend, uh, needs help, so I just really _really_ need to go…” He knew he sounded desperate, ridiculous even, but what choice did he have? He winced at the pathetic non-excuse and tried to wriggle free of Harvey’s strong hold.

“You know what, Sean? You are the worst liar I’ve ever seen,” Harvey told him, keeping him in place with his arm still curled against his waist. “And I’m a lawyer, so liars are my forte. As is lying itself.”

 _Well, that’s for sure,_ Sean thought with a slight, passing bitterness.

“And you suck at it,” Harvey continued. “You sucked at it last night and you sucked at it when you walked in tonight and guess what? You still suck at it. So tell me who your friend is and what kind of trouble he’s in, or cut the bullshit and tell me what’s really going on.”

Sean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, almost in a wave of premature relief. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t keep lying to Harvey and he couldn’t keep doing this to Mike. So he opened his mouth, on the precipice of caving, of just telling Harvey _everything,_ once and for all; prying the lid off Pandora’s Box, to hell with the fallout.

If Mike had wanted to do it himself, well, he should’ve taken his chance when he had it.

“Okay,” Sean started, and he could tell Harvey was listening, his arm going a little looser around his waist, but still there, a gentle, encouraging pressure that gave him the strength to keep going. “I wanted to tell you last night, but—”

Like all complete disasters that could have at _least_ been kept from becoming even worse with one quick, single confession, an ill-timed interruption in the form of two hard, impatient knocks on the door stopped Sean’s words in an instant.

He wasn’t even sure whose head snapped up faster – his or Harvey’s.

Sean almost slumped against him to keep from passing out, but Harvey was already pulling his hand away.

“Stay here,” he ordered gently, though there was a look on his face that Sean immediately recognized as repressed panic – probably because Sean knew that look was on his face as well, only Harvey wasn’t looking at him. He was leaving the kitchen and heading to the door.

Sean backed up and sagged against the fridge, shutting his eyes and shaking his head the second that familiar voice drifted into the doorway. He knew he was screwed. Harvey was screwed. Mike was screwed.

They were all so, _so_ screwed.

 

*

Mike couldn’t read Harvey’s face at all when he answered the door. He’d seemed so indifferent to Mike cancelling their plans earlier, that the most Mike figured he should look was a little surprised by his presence. But Mike had always been somewhat unpredictable – Harvey of all people knew that – so why his expression was so blank, so confusing, was a mystery.

It made Mike uncomfortable – normally he could _always_ decode Harvey’s expression – but after a few seconds, he let it go. He was tired, after all. And Harvey was probably tired too, if what Mike had heard over the phone last night was any indication.

“Hey,” he said. He’d failed in his mission to think of the best way to initiate the conversation on the way up, but now, standing outside Harvey’s door, he figured a good start would be just getting inside.

That was something that was usually pretty easy to do - but tonight, Harvey hadn’t moved to let him in. Which, given the progression of their relationship over the past year, was enough of a red flag all by itself to set alarms off in Mike’s head. He willed them away. Maybe Harvey was more upset than he’d realized that he – clingy, pathetic, head-over-heels Mike – had actually told him no.

Maybe.

Probably not.

“Look, I know I said I didn’t want to come over tonight but I, uh…I changed my mind.”

Harvey stood rigidly, still blocking the entrance. His face may have been vacant, but his voice sounded more than a little affronted. “I thought you had other, more pressing obligations?”

Mike couldn’t even believe Harvey’s nerve. Nearly all of their non-work related conversations from the past few months ran through his head at warp speed, the discrepancies in Harvey’s statements jumping out at his brain like the last legal mistake Mike was looking for in a multi-million dollar merger. It almost drove him to the brink right then and there.

He held back his anger with every shred of his willpower.

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I wanted to hang out with you but I was…tired.”

Harvey didn’t look convinced – at all. “You lied to me to cover for being tired?”

 _Lied?_ Mike gaped at the irony.

“Um, sorry?” he shifted apprehensively, trying to glance over Harvey’s shoulder. He suddenly had the heavy, sinking feeling that he knew _exactly_ why Harvey wasn’t letting him in – and it had nothing to do with whether he had or hadn’t told him he was tired instead of pretending to have other plans.

 _Please be someone else,_ he thought, craning his neck. Anyone else would be better than who his gut told him Harvey was hiding. Jessica. Donna. Scottie. The fucking doorman. Some random man or woman from a random bar. Anyone Harvey had ever flirted with in the distant past. _Anyone else._

“I’m sorry.” Harvey looked down, the trademark sign of obvious deception by someone who was usually very good at pulling it off. “But I’m calling it a night, rookie. It’s late.”

Mike widened his eyes in skepticism. “Really? It’s hardly eleven.”

Harvey held his ground. “Really.”

Mike wanted to punch him.

Instead, he lingered in the doorway for another ten seconds, but there was no movement in Harvey’s apartment. Mike still knew; he could feel it. He glanced up at Harvey with one final, fleeting look and then said, “Fine,” before turning his back and leaving as the realization continued to set in, in the form of burning tears prickling his eyes.

 

*

**Thursday, Day 82**

 

Sean woke up to Harvey shoving his shoulder and nearly pushing him off the bed – the bed that, for the record, was actually somehow _more_ comfortable than the one in the hotel.

“God,” Harvey groaned, voice thick with sleep. “Turn that shit off.”

Sean grappled around the bedside table for his cell phone and finally silenced the alarm music. _6:11am._ He leaned back against the pillow with a heavy sigh, last night still weighing on his conscience.

After Mike had left, Harvey had wandered back into the kitchen, tight-lipped and pale as a ghost. Sean had then insisted he needed to leave again, but as expected, Harvey emphatically told him no. He couldn’t have had Sean running into Mike on his way out, of course, but he covered the fact by wrapping his arms back around Sean’s waist and explaining that he wanted him to stay. The thing was, though, it hadn’t sounded like a complete lie.

So, even after plenty of time had passed – time that allotted Mike to be long gone from Harvey’s neighborhood – Sean had stayed. They’d eaten, Harvey had dismissed the visitor as ‘a friend’ and tried to changed the subject by getting Sean to finish where he’d left off. But Sean had just chewed quietly and shook his head. “I’m too tired to talk about it tonight,” he’d told Harvey honestly, looking across the table with blue eyes. “Can we just go to sleep?”

Harvey had nodded, so that’s what they’d done.

Despite that his mind had been running wild with regret and dread, Sean had passed out almost immediately, Harvey’s hand resting gently on his hip.

 But sleep was only a temporary reprieve and now that he was awake, all of those emotions were flooding back. He slowly sat up, sensing that Harvey was still at least half-awake on the other side of the bed; undoubtedly grumpy from having been jolted awake before sunrise by some alternative rock song.

“Can I use your shower or is that another unbendable rule?”

Harvey scoffed sleepily. “Are you always this sarcastic at the crack of dawn?”

“You should know,” Sean muttered, getting up and heading to the bathroom.

 

When he emerged twenty minutes later, Harvey was asleep again. Sean got dressed and stood in the doorway, just watching for a moment and trying to figure out exactly where the _hell_  he was supposed to go from there.

Eventually he decided he should probably start with going to class. So with a deep breath, he turned off Harvey’s light, grabbed his books, and left the condo.

He only had one detour to make.

 

*

Mike was running late to work, but he didn’t care. Harvey didn’t even roll in until after nine, and now that Mike wasn’t working with Louis at all, no one but Donna would even notice if he wasn’t on time. And he could do the work waiting for him in Harvey’s office in an hour if he had to. Besides, even if he couldn’t, he _still_  didn’t particularly care. He was too upset.  

He’d just finished locking up his bike when he turned and saw the familiar face lingering not far down the sidewalk, backpack slung over one shoulder. Mike felt a surge of anger flood his system, and he started to make a hurried beeline for the entrance.

“Mike! _Wait!”_

He didn’t turn around. He picked up his pace. _“Fuck you,_ Sean!”

Sean’s footsteps were quick, and they closed in, one hand flying up to spin Mike around by his shoulder. “God damn it, Mike, just _stop_ for a second!”

“I don’t wanna _talk_ to you!” Mike shoved his hand off. “I don’t even wanna _look_ at you!”

He turned away from the building and walked in the opposite direction, figuring Sean would follow but deciding it was better than anyone he knew seeing them. It was early, and there weren’t a lot of people showing up yet, but it wasn’t a risk Mike needed to take. This wasn’t a fight he needed to have outside of work.

“Will you just fucking _listen_ to me?” Sean was asking, struggling to keep up. “I didn’t know you were gonna go over there!”

Mike continued walking away swiftly, calling all his responses over his shoulder until he felt like they were a safe distance from the firm. Then he turned around angrily. “Is that supposed to make me feel _better?_ Because it doesn’t!”

“I _meant_ I didn’t think you were gonna _talk_ to him last night! And I couldn’t _stand_ being in the middle of you two anymore, so when he texted me I—”

“Decided you’d go over and fuck him? Again?”

“No! I didn’t—Mike, I just wanted to talk to him. One of us needed to and—”

“And I _told_ you that I would do it!” Mike shouted, his voice verging on a break. “Sean, I told you I would do it! I said I just needed time!”

“I know. Mike, _I know,_ and I’m sorry, but I thought I could help.” Sean took deep a breath, regret threading itself through every word. “I know you’re pissed at me because of Tuesday. Even though you say you’re not, I know you are and I get it, okay? I’m pissed at myself for it too.”

 _“Tuesday?!”_ Mike asked incredulously. “You think I’m pissed off about _Tuesday?!_ Tuesday was _my_ idea, Sean! Although, since you wanna bring it up – _Studying?_ Really? That was the _best_ your top two percent of Columbia brain could come up with? And when he called your bluff you gave it _three fucking seconds_ before you decided, ‘Oh well, can’t think of a better excuse, guess I’ll just jump into bed with him’?!”

Sean shook his head, “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me. Mike, you just _said_ Tuesday was _your_ idea! I was the one who didn’t want to do it, remember? _Remember_ when I told you it was a bad idea? Remember _that?”_

“You could’ve _walked out,_ Sean!” Mike clenched his fists and made a frustrated noise. “For God’s sake! You could’ve just walked out the _fucking_ door!”

“I…” Sean looked down at the sidewalk, his stomach twisting. “Mike, I’m sorry. He’s…”

“Intimidating? Persuasive? Yeah, I know. But I walk away from him all the time and I live to see another day. So that’s a shit excuse and you know it.”

“I said I was sorry. You know I am. What else do I have to say, Mike? It was a bad plan, okay? I know I should have left.”

Mike stared at him, eyes glassy and still ablaze with anger. His voice was impatient but somewhat quieter. “So did you do it? Did you tell him? Does he know?”

Sean shook his head. “No. You got there before I had the chance.”

“Well that was convenient for you, wasn’t it?”

“Mike—”

“You know what? Just don’t.” Mike started to walk past him in the direction of work. “I don’t care.”

“You’re being so unfair right now!” Sean called.

Mike stopped, dead still. Finally, he whirled back around again and stalked up to Sean, only about a foot of space between them. _“I’m_ being unfair? Okay, then, let me cut you some slack! I forgive you.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I really forgive you,” Mike insisted, lowering his voice. “For Tuesday.”

Sean looked back, both hopeful and skeptical. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Mike said. “You’re right. You should’ve left but I should’ve never asked you to go in the first place. I told you I didn’t care if you slept with him because I didn’t think I would, because you’d done it so many times before. But since I knew, I just…It hit me harder than I thought. So, I’m sorry. And you’re off the hook.”

Mike sounded genuine, so cautiously, Sean nodded. “Okay…so…are we…will we be…okay?”

“It depends,” Mike said, expression and tone going suddenly, eerily cold. “Did you fuck him last night?”

Sean felt like his throat was about to close up. _“No,”_ he replied, but his voice strained under the weight of the half-truth.

“You didn’t?”

“I told you. No.”

“So you only talked to him, but not long enough to tell him that we know?”

“Yes.”

“And you were texting me for fifteen minutes and you still didn’t have enough time to tell him about us before I got there?”

“It’s…” Sean looked away, flustered. “Mike, it’s not the easiest news to break. You’ve been putting it off for _three days._ I couldn’t take fifteen minutes?”

Mike ignored him and plowed ahead. “What time did you get there?”

“What?”

“What _time_ did you fucking _get there?”_

“Not that long before you,” Sean told him, the lie bitter on his tongue.

“And you didn’t do _anything_ with him?”

“No.”

Mike wanted more than anything in the world to believe him, whether Sean was telling the truth or not. But he just didn’t.

Locking their eyes, Mike finally asked, “Then why are you wearing his shirt, Sean?”

Sean paused, mouth half-open. The wounded look Mike’s face told him an excuse might be the final straw. So he didn’t say anything at all.

Mike stared down at the sidewalk, eventually looking back up with an especially bitter smile on his lips and muttering, “I have to go to work.” He motioned toward his watch. “And I think you’re late for those classes Harvey’s paying for.”

He left Sean standing there and walked away without looking back.  

 

*


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took forever to update. My only excuse is that RL has been a little cruel lately and I sort of lost focus. That said, I think it's finally back now so hallelujah! Also: this chapter was going to end in a different place, but I made a couple changes and it got pretty long so I decided to split it up. As a result I may have gotten carried away with the angst (again), which is just to say things don't get quite sorted out yet...so consider yourself warned. ;)
> 
> As always, apologies for any typos/mistakes I missed. And thank you SO MUCH for the lovely comments/kudos <3

*

**Thursday  
Day 82**

By Thursday afternoon, Mike wasn’t sure he could make another hour – let alone another day – without telling Harvey that he wasn’t being quite as devious with his torrid affair as he seemed to think, and that all the puzzle pieces had slotted together days ago when Sean’s face had drained of color at the sound of Harvey’s name on Mike’s lips.  

Speaking of Sean, Mike couldn’t get their early morning fight out of his head; it replayed over and over in his mind like the vicious, bitter end to what he’d thought was an impermeable friendship. He analyzed every word he’d said to death, wondered briefly if he’d been too harsh, or not harsh enough, if Sean was right or _he_ was right or if they were both wrong or if it even mattered at all. By the time his thoughts came full circle, he was too confused to make a decision and the end result still sat heavy in his stomach and it still felt a lot like anger.

Just as he began to bury himself in work in hopes of finding a distraction from it all, his phone buzzed gently against his thigh. Immediately, he knew.

[3:19pm] Sean Westlee: _Can we please talk?_

Mike sighed softly, but his breath shook. His fingers typed a response that betrayed his instinct to say _Yes_ and his reflex to forgive because he wasn’t prepared to lose his best friend if there was any reason why he shouldn’t.

[3:19pm] Mike Ross: _Can you please pull the knife out of my back?_

There was a sense of satisfaction in that, in tapping the send button a little harder than necessary and lashing out in self-defense – but it was fleeting. It left quickly and completely and Mike felt worse in its wake.

[3:21pm] Sean Westlee: _I didn’t do any of this to hurt you I swear  
_ [3:21pm] Mike Ross: _You lied to me  
_ [3:22pm] Sean Westlee: _You didn’t give me a chance to tell you the truth  
_ [3:22pm] Sean Westlee: _Neither did he_

Mike flinched and looked up from the screen, eyes darting to the unfinished work in front of him, the wall of his cubicle, even the floor. He rubbed his temple. As if this wasn’t enough to deal with, every time he’d walked in and out of Harvey’s office so far today had been torture. When Harvey had apologized for acting standoffish the night before, and covered it with yet another lie – _“Sorry, Mike. I really wasn’t feeling up to it.”_ – that had cut so deep that Mike had needed to leave the room to keep himself composed. And every time Harvey had found him in here with an assignment for their case was painstaking. Every time Harvey had looked at him, smiled at him, thanked him for the briefs he’d proofed so quickly – had been downright _agonizing._

It had all finally given him a headache that was serving as a painful reminder of who all of his pent up anger was actually for.

_*_

When Mike neared the café six blocks away – a place close enough to work but also cheap and undignified enough to make it unlikely that he’d run into Harvey, or Louis for that matter – he quickly found Sean leaning against the window, taking a sharp, nicotine-filled breath.

“Since when do you smoke?”

Sean dropped the cigarette, smothered it with his heel and muttered, “Since this morning.”

 He adjusted his backpack over his shoulder and when he opened the door, Mike followed him to a table in the corner, noticing but trying to ignore the way Sean was pushing up the sleeves of his too-big black shirt.

“I have to be back in like thirty minutes,” Mike announced. “I didn’t tell Harvey I was leaving, so…”

Sean nodded. “It’s fine. I have to work in an hour.”

They both ordered a soda, but when it got there, Mike only stared at his. The space between them felt heavy with tension, and after a few minutes, to keep it from ramping up, Sean gathered up the nerve to speak.

“He texted me first and I—”

There wasn’t quite enough time to finish his thought before Mike let out an incredulous laugh, half amused, half annoyed. “So, wait, your excuse is that ‘he started it’? I’m starting to think admissions was really bored the day they sent out your acceptance letter.”

 _“Sorry,”_ Sean replied, and it verged on a snap, though it wasn’t quite that bitter. “I’m not a fake lawyer so I didn’t memorize a closing argument on my way here.”

“That’s all you can do is bring up the fact that I’m a fraud. But I’m used it to it, so it doesn’t get to me,” Mike explained. It was partly true, anyway – he _was_ used to it. “I lost my girlfriend because of it, I lost Trevor because of it, and Harvey’s been reminding me of it every three days for the past year, so, please, try to think of something more original.”

Sean stared. “Why don’t you stop looking for reasons why I don’t deserve to be in a top five school?”

“I don’t do that.”

“You do it every chance you get, Mike. You’re so passive aggressive you don’t even notice. But I do. And just because you couldn’t get into Harvard—”

Mike rolled his eyes and briefly looked away. Of course they’d use their greatest flaws against each other – their friendship began and sustained on the fact that they knew one another well enough to do just that; to know exactly where to press until it hurt.

“I _did_ get into Harvard,” he said finally, and if his eyes were glassy, neither of them acknowledged it.

“But you didn’t go, so what the hell is the difference?”

“For the record, I never said _anything_ to you about Columbia until you started rubbing it in my face.”

“When the hell did I do _that?”_ Sean asked, throwing up his hands in confusion.

Mike leaned across the table, his voice strained under the repressed impulse to shout. “You didn’t just do it, Sean, you’re _capitalizing_ on it. You know that Harvey likes that there’s a paper trail to prove you’re smart, that you have the degree to back up all that business admin bullshit. So whether you realize it or not, you’re a constant reminder to him that _I’m_ the dropout. _I’m_ the screw-up.”

“You’re delusional,” Sean told him. “This has nothing to do with me or Harvey. It’s your own insecurity. Seriously, name _one_ person who’s ever held that against you, besides yourself. You can’t do it, can you?”

“Just forget it,” Mike muttered, looking down at his melting drink.

They both fell quiet for a few minutes, but Sean could still feel subdued hostility aimed at him from across the table. Mike had a unique way of channeling red hot anger into quiet pain. It went both ways: when he was angry, he sounded hurt; when he was hurt, he sounded angry. Some kind of defense mechanism, Sean had decided, and interestingly enough, it wasn’t all that different from Harvey’s.

“I don’t even remember why we’re fighting, Mike,” he sighed.

“Because I asked you for one thing, Sean, _one thing._ I asked you to give me a little more time and you couldn’t do that.”

“I told you, he texted _me_ first, when you wouldn’t talk to me at all!”

“So _today_ it’s his fault? What, you finally got tired of being objectified, decided to take a break from Harvey Specter martyrdom?”

Sean’s eyes looked more tired than usual, face a little paler, and Mike took a modicum of pleasure in the realization that just maybe this morning had taken an equal emotional toll on them both.

“I promise that I went there because I wanted to tell him the truth. I’ve been in the middle of this lie for _months,_ Mike. I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I didn’t tell you the whole truth this morning—”

Mike snorted and Sean pretended not to notice.

“—but you didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“Kinda hard to do when you’re _wearing_ the proof, you know?”

Sean bit his lip, but didn’t respond. Eventually Mike sighed and shrugged. “Sorry. I just…I can’t get Tuesday night out of my head, okay? ” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Hearing him call you things he calls me, it was…it was weird and I didn’t expect it and now...well, now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I know,” Sean said softly.

“And I was so pissed off ‘cause I thought if you’d just left, it wouldn’t have happened, that I wouldn’t have heard any of it but…that isn’t fair ‘cause I made you go there with me in the first place. And I’m sure he’s said those things to you like a hundred times before, so it doesn’t even matter. But then…”

“Then what?”

“Then I couldn’t take it anymore, so I went over there and I knew—” Mike paused and shook his head, a pained expression on his face. “I _knew_ you were there, I could tell. And I wanted to yell at someone but I couldn’t even look at him. So when I saw you today I just…lost it, I guess.”

Sean nodded. He hesitated before saying, quietly, “It wasn’t like Tuesday, you know. I mean, not really.”

“Not really?”

“He kissed me. I didn’t kiss him back.”

“This sounds extremely circumstantial,” Mike observed, folding his arms. He sounded momentarily less angry, if only because the day was only half over and he already felt emotionally taxed. He needed at least a millisecond of reprieve to pretend things weren’t quite as fucked up as they really were.

His words managed to evoke the slightest smile from Sean. It was a glimmer of hope for their friendship, but with the truth seeping out, it quickly began to fade.

“I told him I couldn’t sleep with him anymore. But every time I tried to tell him why, I’d freeze up or he’d kiss me again. It’s like any time I try to stand up to him, I fail.”

Mike couldn’t exactly argue with that, and he’d be lying if he said he couldn’t, on some level, relate. So he didn’t say anything, just sat rigidly and listened, his stomach twisting in nauseas anticipation. The truth was, according Oscar Wilde, at least, rarely pure and never simple. But Mike had asked for it.

“I said we shouldn’t, I kept saying I needed to tell him something, but I just couldn’t _fucking_ spit it out,” Sean continued, averting his eyes out of frustration and shame. “I didn’t know how to say it and part of me still didn’t even want to be the one to tell him. And he kept touching me and I couldn’t even think so I just…I just let him do it.”

“Let him do what?” Mike asked.

Sean knew Mike wasn’t going to let him gloss over this one, and he thought maybe he deserved it, so he squirmed under Mike’s stare and swallowed hard. “He wanted me on the counter. To lie on it. So…you know.”

He looked away again and Mike laughed bitterly. “Since when do you care about sparing the details?”

“Uh, since I figured you didn’t want to hear them?”

“Please. I never had any problem getting them out of you before.”

“Well, that that was before I knew who he was. And you and I weren’t in public.”

Mike studied him for a few seconds and then suddenly decided that whether or not he wanted to see Sean suffer any longer, it wasn’t really doing either of them any good. “Fine,” he breathed. “So what happened after he went down on you?”

“I changed my shirt,” Sean responded, intentionally matching the bluntness in Mike’s voice. “And then you texted me, and I tried to tell him again – I swear – but you got there and he left to answer the door. I didn’t know what to do, Mike. I had thirty seconds to make a decision while you were talking to him and I decided you probably didn’t want him to find out like that.”

“So you were doing me a favor, then?”

“I thought it was the lesser of two evils, yeah.”

 “And after I left?” Mike masked the ache in his throat with a tightlipped smile.

“I tried to leave, but obviously he wouldn’t let me because he knew I'd see you. So I stayed and we…we ate,” Sean raised his hand and dropped it in defeat. “And we went to sleep.”

“Did he fuck you?”

 _“No_.”

“But you slept with him.”

“We slept in the same bed, yeah. But that was it.”

Mike squinted like he was trying to see through Sean’s words and tone to any shred of deception behind them, but he came up empty. Sean was telling the truth. The realization crept into Mike’s brain with a fraction of relief, but it was bittersweet. The fact that it could have been worse or that there could have been less guilt and more intent didn’t particularly soften the blow. And it didn’t make Mike feel much better.

“We were supposed to hang out that night,” he admitted, and when Sean frowned, he added, “Me and Harvey. But I was so angry at him that I told him I didn’t want to, and he didn’t seem to care. I still wanted to see him though. That’s why I showed up. I mean, I wanted to tell him about us, too, but mostly…mostly I just wanted to see him.”

Sean looked back apologetically. “Mike…”

“He was so pissed at me, I could tell, because he wouldn’t even look at me and I don’t know why because I haven’t even…” Mike stalled with sad laugh. “I haven’t even done anything.”

“I don’t think he was pissed, Mike. I think he was guilty. You cancelled on him—”

“Yeah, and then he called you.”

“And then _you_ came over,” Sean countered. “He probably regretted texting me because he realized if he’d waited, you’d show up.”

“Because I always do.”

“Mike, you weren’t the backup yesterday. We’ve been over this. You never are.”

“Please,” Mike shot him a _spare me_ scowl. “We’re from the same factory, only difference is I’m defective.”

Sean shook his head at the self-deprecation and leaned in. “I don’t think I’m better than you, Mike, I never have. And I know Harvey doesn’t think that either,” he shrugged. “But I forget, I’m not allowed to have an opinion on what he might be thinking, because you’re the only one who knows him, right? Just not quite well enough to have the balls to tell him he’s been fucking your best friend for months.”

Mike shot him dagger eyes, pulled a few dollars from his pocket to cover his Sprite and tossed it on the table. He stood up abruptly. “I don’t know if I have a best friend right now.”

Sean got to his feet just as quickly. “Why are you more pissed off at _me_ for not pushing him away, instead of at _him_ for making me need to push him away in the _first_ place?!”

“I’m late,  I have to go back to work,” Mike deflected coldly, trying to ignore the way anger and hurt battled for reign of Sean’s voice, but only the latter sounded like it was winning. It was the final, silent testimony to just how affected he’d been by what Harvey was doing – whatever that was, exactly – and it wasn’t a new revelation by any means, but it was the strongest one yet. And though Sean didn’t say it in so many words, Mike heard it just the same. Unfortunately, he was too worked up to address it. Instead, all he could manage was a shaky, ominous, “Get out of my way.”

Sean did, stepped to the side and let Mike pass, but followed him out onto the sidewalk in a hurry. It was déjà vu all over again.

“Tell him. Please.”

Mike stopped and spun around. “Stay away from him. Please.”

For reasons Sean wasn’t a hundred percent sure of, that made him tense with an irrational spike of uncertainty. Staying away from Harvey had been the plan ever since finding out who he was and what he meant to Mike, but it hadn’t quite happened yet. And now that he had every reason to, Sean wasn’t so sure he could.

“I swear to God, Mike. This is my life too. Promise me you will tell him or I will call him right now.”

Mike scoffed. “You’re bluffing,” he called, over the sound of traffic. “You haven’t recovered from breaking that rule last Friday.”

“That’s the thing, though, Mike,” Sean pulled his phone out of his pocket. “He’s been breaking a lot of rules lately. Ditching the hotel. Letting me in his bed—”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What? Making you feel worse when you already feel like shit?”

And Mike was reminded, again, that they were trying to fight the same battle from different sides – and losing as a result.

“I’ll tell him tonight, Sean,” he caved. “Just… _please_ …let me get through the day.”

“Promise?”

Mike nodded, resigned. He’d planned to tell Harvey anyway. And with the way he was cracking at the edges, it was practically inevitable now. Sean’s ultimatum was only upping the pressure.

“I said I’ll do it.”

Sean glanced at his watch – he had twelve minutes to get to work in midtown. He looked up, a little warning in his voice, but mostly despair, when he said, “I will if you don’t.”

And this time it was Mike who was left standing there, staring down at the street.

 

*

Mike walked back into work on the verge of a complete breakdown at worst, a panic attack at best. It was inevitable. His nerves were frayed, adrenaline coasting through his veins, heartbeat fluttering at every ringing phone or the slightest raised voice.

 _So much for keeping this out of work,_ he thought bitterly. At least when he’d fought with Trevor, he’d had Harvey to fall back on. But Sean was another story entirely, currently all tangled up in each of their lives, and with both of them at odds, the only place it left Mike was the one place he felt like he constantly ended up – alone.

For an hour, he tried to ride out the anxiety by immersing himself into a stack of work Louis’ had left him. It was tedious, but it was no match for how he felt. And apparently, his behavior over the past few days hadn’t been lost on Harvey, who knew him too well for it all to go unnoticed. All of Mike’s attempts to dismiss Harvey’s concern had only managed to increase it, so when Harvey caught up with him around 5:15 after a few words from Donna about just how bad Mike looked, one glance at the kid and the way he was tapping his fingers like he was on speed, was all the confirmation Harvey needed that something was up.

 “My office, Mike.”

He jerked his head in that direction and Mike stood up, following quickly like he was connected by some physical tether.

 “Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?” Harvey asked, once he was seated behind his desk, and surprisingly it was him confronting Mike instead of the other way around. But not, of course, for the same reason. “The flu? The plague? Teenage angst?”

Mike rolled his eyes and eventually shook his head. “No. I told you I was fine.”

Harvey frowned at his tone. “You’ve been hiding out in the bullpen almost exclusively for three days.”

“So?”

“‘So?’You hate it there. Do you not remember begging me to let you work in here instead?”

Mike shrugged insolently. He just couldn’t pretend not to know anymore. It was exhausting. And the more Harvey talked to – no, _at_ – him, the closer he came to snapping under the pressure.

“Your work’s been suffering too,” Harvey continued, noting, but not commenting on Mike’s glare. “The last three things you turned in were late.”

“Is that what you’re really worried about?”

“What?”

Mike looked away, frustrated. “I mean, do you even _care_ if anything’s wrong? Or are you just pissed because I was an hour late with some files for the first time since, like, I don’t know – _ever?”_

“I was _concerned,_ Mike, not pissed,” Harvey explained. “But now that you’re acting like a brat, I am _starting_ to get pissed off.”

“I’m not acting like a _brat,”_ Mike said, but the exasperated pitch of annoyance in his voice betrayed him.

“You are,” Harvey told him simply, standing up. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“No thanks.”

Harvey came to a stop in front of him and softened his tone. “Maybe I can help.”

Mike laughed, loud and bitter, and shook his head. Not his smartest move so far, but probably not the worst thing he’d ever done either. And besides, the irony was too much. How was he _supposed_ to react?

“What’s with the attitude, Mike?”

“I don’t _have_  an _attitude.”_

Harvey raised an eyebrow, but Mike just avoided the stare and shifted on his feet, wanting more than anything to turn around and flee.

“Look at me.”

Mike didn’t.

Frustrated, Harvey reached out and guided his head up with two fingers under his chin. _“Look_ at me when I speak, Mike,” he demanded, his voice raised and stern. “And tell me what the _hell_ is going on with you.”

Mike’s eyes were close to watering. Forced to look up, he gave Harvey a cold, angry glare. Enraged, hurt, betrayed, confused, and feeling a dozen other emotions coursing through him – all long overdue to be dealt with – he shoved Harvey’s arm away and crumbled.

“I don’t _know!”_ he shouted. He was finally cracking, on the brink of a sob, his words angry and accusing but mostly full of raw, unresolved pain. _“Why don’t you go ask your little Ivy League slut?!”_

Harvey’s face tensed and paled, but he managed to keep any further indication of guilt or even complete surprise from being too obvious. It was the result of years of practice at keeping his emotions under lock and key; a habit that had undoubtedly gotten him in this situation in the first place.

After nearly ten agonizingly awkward seconds, in an incredulous whisper, he said, _“Excuse me?”_

Slightly terrified – because this was specifically _not_ how he intended for this to go – Mike bit his lip, hard. He’d waited so long to have this conversation that it had spiraled into an argument – possibly their worst – and purely out of emotion, and purely as a result of being hurt, he’d used harsh words to cut as deep as he could, knowing full well that they’d never actually hurt Harvey as much has Harvey had already hurt him.

And now there was no going back; no civility left between them to salvage. No way to take back what he’d said and start over. So Mike did what he tended to do when he was overwhelmed, when he was cornered – he started giving up.

 _“You_ know,” he spit, and though he made an effort to sound composed, malicious even, the words still came out broken and shaky. “The twenty-six year old you hired to fuck three times a week, the one who looks a hell of a lot like me, but hey, I’m sure that was just a big _fucking_ coincidence, right?”

Mike didn’t see Harvey’s hand when it came down, open palm, on the side of his face – but he sure as hell felt it.

It was almost instantaneous, and there was no forethought behind it, of course, because if there had been, Harvey never would’ve done it. But the truth was, he’d been called out, and he couldn’t think straight enough to figure out how the fuck Mike knew, and he was pissed off for having ever thought he could get away with it to start with, and pissed off at Mike for being so smart, and pissed off at himself for being so stupid. And the only response he could come up with was a kneejerk strike to Mike’s face.

Mike let out a startled whimper and stumbled back. He clutched the side of his face and stared at Harvey in shock. Part of him expected an apology, rushed, instinctive, and maybe a little self-serving, but an apology in some form nonetheless.

He didn't get one. 

“I don’t know what the _hell_ you’re talking about,” Harvey growled. “But don’t _ever_ speak to me like that again.”

There was a beat of silence and then he stepped to the side and stormed out of the office.

Mike stood in the aftermath of their outburst, heart pounding, eyes prickling with tears. He carefully pulled his hand away, wincing at the burn on his skin and the soreness in jaw. There were several drops of blood on his palm and he quickly discovered it was from his lip – split with a small cut from where the pressure of Harvey’s fingers had made impact. He could taste it in his mouth too; copper bitterness leaking onto his tongue like a ruthless metaphor for the past three days. He flinched, maybe less from the pain and more from the implication of it, which was that Harvey had finally succeeded in hurting him in every possible way. 

After standing there in a stunned daze for nearly a full minute, Mike was finally able to move. He kept a hand over his mouth and rushed out, ignoring Donna’s calls of confusion and concern as he flew past her desk. Once at his cubicle, he grabbed his bag and headed for the elevators. He had no idea where Harvey had gone, and for the first time, Mike didn’t care. Between the stinging in his lip and the anxiety still flooding his system, all he could focus on at all was getting the hell out.

*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so sorry I’ve been taking so long with the updates! I’ll try to be quicker. Thank you for the love.
> 
> I thought it was time for Harvey to get a taste of his own medicine. Also, angst. And I added some tags/warnings for future chapters. (I wasn't completely satisfied with all of this, but it got pretty long so hopefully some parts made up for other parts.)

*

 

**Thursday, Day 82**

**  
**

Mike felt numb.

He’d gone home after his and Harvey’s fight – for lack of a better word – downed a beer and forced himself to go to sleep just as means of forgetting the entire day, beginning to bitter end. But waking up was another slap to the face; not physically painful, but much harder to deal with from an emotional standpoint. He sat and stared blankly at the muted TV and the only thing that eventually snapped him back to reality was the sound of his cell phone ringing.

_Sean calling…_

And vibrating.

[9:23pm] Sean Westlee: _Answer your phone_

And ringing.

_Sean calling…_

Lethargically, on the third ring, Mike decided to answer. He wasn’t convinced things could get much worse between them anyway.

“Yeah,” was all he managed to say.

“What happened?” Sean asked softly, after working up the courage for several seconds. He wasn’t really sure what the protocol was now, given their complete failure at reconciliation that afternoon. But he needed to know if Mike had kept his promise, for all of their sakes.

Mike took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I called you a slut and he slapped me in the face.”

It wasn’t that Sean had expected the news to have gone over especially well – in fact, he’d spent all day worried that Mike wouldn’t even break it to Harvey at all – but he didn’t expect _that._

“What? Are you okay?”

With no one there to see him, Mike looked down and smiled bitterly at the status quo. “I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled honestly. “What I said. I was just so pissed off at him and I…I _snapped,_ Sean.”

“I know.” Sean’s voice was quiet, like anything either of them said could be jarring to their now-tenuous friendship. “Where are you now?”

“Home,” Mike replied. “I told him a little while after I saw you and then I left right after and—”

“Has he called you?”

“No. Did he…”

“I haven’t talked to him since this morning, Mike,” Sean interrupted gently. And then, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ve been hit harder.”

“Yeah? By someone you hate or someone you love?”

Mike sighed. “Sean, it’s no big deal,” he insisted, though his words came out infinitely more wounded than dismissive.

“If you say so.” Sean wasn’t convinced – and it was obviously a _huge_ deal – but he knew better than to push it. “I’d come over but I’m not off until midnight.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m off tomorrow, I could pick up a six pack.”

“Okay,” Mike agreed. “No beer though.”

“Whiskey?”

“Yeah.”

“Done.”

Their call ended and Mike felt a little better knowing he still had one person in his corner, even if that person was at the center of this massive debacle. But it depressed him that commiserating over Harvey’s latest malfeasance seemed to be the only way he and Sean ever got past any of their problems. Somehow all of the reasons they’d become friends in the first place had slipped away, replaced almost exclusively with their own respective struggles stemming from knowing Harvey at all, and Mike felt more and more like it was inadvertently becoming a competition of who was being hurt by him the most.

Mike had tried to put himself in Sean’s shoes, had a pretty good idea of what he was probably feeling, all things considered, but he was smart enough to know that he wouldn’t ever quite be able to grasp it. At the same time, he wondered if Sean truly understood what it felt like for him; what it was like for Mike to know Harvey might have wanted him at some point, but not quite enough to admit it, only enough to find somebody else – somebody older and smarter, with more experience and a somewhat better grip on their life. ~~  
~~

He groaned and willed himself to stop thinking about it, but it was next to impossible. The whole disaster had been consuming him all week and telling Harvey hadn’t done a single thing to lift the weight on his shoulders. In fact, he felt a thousand times worse than when he was keeping it all inside.

“Fuck,” he muttered. Sometimes he hated his memory.

Sitting and dwelling on everything – particularly their fight – wasn’t doing anything to quiet that memory, and hadn’t done him any good so far. It was still early, and he wasn’t tired, but he considered just going back to bed. Sleep sounded like a decent plan; he couldn’t remember thinking of anything during his nap, which was precisely the point, and so it was a foolproof way to forget about the lingering pain in his lip and jaw and the image of Harvey kissing Sean that was still burned into his brain.

As it turned out, though, neither of those things were Mike’s biggest problem with the situation. He was actually coping well with the fact that he knew Harvey had been regularly seeing someone else. They weren’t together, never had been, Harvey owed him nothing and was free to do whatever – and whomever – he wanted. Hell, even Sean’s appearance wasn’t what bothered Mike the most. It was weird, of course, but now that Mike knew him and saw him as an individual – alike in many ways but also incredibly different – it was easier to separate himself from him. So maybe Harvey could pretend he was fucking Mike, but Mike remained well aware that he and Sean were far from being the same person. And none of any of that got to him as much as the fact that Harvey had denied the whole thing to his face when, short of blurting out Sean’s name or admitting they were friends, Mike had been specific enough to prove that he had, indeed, figured it all out. And Harvey had lied through his teeth anyway and then walked off like there was nothing left to say to Mike. But not before hitting him, of course – one final, literal slap in the face to drive home Harvey’s betrayal.

Mike raked his hands over his face, willed his brain to stop analyzing the whole thing to death, because what was the point? Lost for a solution, he got up and collapsed into bed. But his body and mind were restless, buzzing with uncomfortable, negative energy, and he tossed and turned until he was so aggravated he climbed out of bed for the second time that night. An hour and two aspirin later and sleep still eluded him.

And then Harvey knocked on his door.

At first, Mike thought maybe it was Sean, if his concern or his lingering guilt over last night had spawned some kind of insomnia of its own. But it was hardly eleven and Mike doubted he could have gotten off work early and made it to Brooklyn that fast, all without texting the change in plans.

So the only other possibility Mike could think of was that it was Harvey, if he’d somehow grown a conscience in the past seven hours. But really, he didn’t have much time to go over the short mental list of potential visitors he could have on an almost-midnight Thursday. He just took a deep breath, crossed the room, and opened the door.

Mike dropped his head upon realizing that it was, in fact, Harvey. It wasn’t a complete surprise given that no one else had such pressing reasons to visit him, but it was still strange given everything that had happened in the office earlier. And because Mike wasn’t entirely sure why Harvey would bother coming to see him after making it resoundingly clear that he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Mike could feel the reminder of that in his cheekbone, and when he thought about it, he started to close the door.

Harvey reached out with one hand to keep it open.

 _“Harvey…”_ Mike’s voice was strained. It was a plea and what it really sounded like was _don’t._

“Mike…” Harvey seemed to be waiting for an invitation to come inside, which was unusual in and of itself since he typically just walked right in. But this time, Mike’s body was bladed, defensive, blocking the entrance.

Mike looked up and realized that Harvey didn’t look angry anymore, the way he had at work. He looked sorry, really, truly, genuinely sorry. But Mike couldn’t tell whether it was because he was actually sorry for what he’d done – or just sorry he’d been caught. And there was a serious difference between the two.

But, as always, Mike couldn’t tell him no. After a long moment of awkward silence, he caved; stepped to the side and let Harvey in, turning to face him as he lingered by the coffee table.

“You lied to me,” he told him flatly, wondering briefly if this was also something Harvey might deny, even when the proof was standing right in front of him.

“I know.” Harvey’s voice was soft.

Mike shook his head, trying to fight down a new spike of emotion. He failed, his words coming out wrecked on the end of a poorly choked-down sob.  “You hit me,” he finally gasped, a little incredulous, like he knew it had happened but still couldn’t quite process the fact. 

Harvey looked nauseous, more than a little color gone from his face. “I know.”

Somewhat satisfied with his acceptance of the truth – those particular facts, at least – Mike nodded slowly and walked by him to sit down on the couch. Cautiously, Harvey joined, but sat as far away as the small piece of furniture allowed. He could almost feel the level of distrust radiating from Mike and he didn’t want to push his luck.

“Did I wake you?”

Mike shook his head. “Couldn’t sleep.”

It wasn’t much of a response, but it was all he could manage. And to Harvey, it was at least something to go on – more than he’d expected, more than he deserved, and much better than the cold shoulder.

“Me either,” he said.

“Why?” Mike asked. “Is it hard to sleep without Sean under you?”

“Okay.” Harvey nodded once. “I deserve that.”

Mike didn’t comment.

“You know his name,” Harvey observed, after several seconds of silent tension.

“Yeah, I know his _name,_ Harvey. He’s my _friend.”_

Harvey wanted to ask what, where, when, how – but he knew he didn’t have the right. So he settled for a simple “Oh,” and hoped that Mike would elaborate.

And with an aggravated sigh, he did.

“We met at that dive bar next to the high rise you host him at.”

Harvey swallowed hard. He knew he had a lot of his own explaining to do, but he also wanted to know how _Mike_ knew. And on top of that, Mike seemed like he wanted to tell him, like he hadn’t just found out today, like maybe the information had been eating away at him for days. So Harvey stayed quiet and waited for him to continue.

“I met him the first time he was going to see you,” Mike said, eyes still a little glassy. “I looked for you before I left, I was gonna ask if you wanted to hang out, but you were gone.” He laughed dryly. “What are the chances, right? He was so nervous, he was throwing back _tequila_. He had no idea what he was getting into.”

Mike could sense Harvey’s confliction of wanting to interrupt and wanting to hear more, so he decided to keep going. He wasn’t so sure he was prepared to hear Harvey’s side of things just yet.

“I mean, I told him he didn’t have to do it, but he said he did ‘cause he needed the money that bad. But I guess you already knew that.”

On cue, Harvey opened his mouth to cut in, but Mike carried on before he could.

“I remember how relieved he was that you weren’t a serial killer or a sexual sadist. I mean, that’s what he was afraid of. Not, you know, that he might not get paid or something. But he went anyway, ‘cause he was desperate.” Mike shook his head in disbelief. “And you _knew_ that, you _knew_ he was desperate, and you took advantage of it. Jesus Christ, Harvey, he’s just trying to get through school.”

“Mike—”

“Shut up!” Mike got to his feet in a second. His anger was flaring again and there just wasn’t enough space between them.

Harvey cringed and fell quiet, watching as Mike started to pace in a small line by the door, his voice becoming more and more hysterical.

 _“God,_ Harvey! I haven’t even _gotten_ to the part about what this whole thing has done to _me!_ But I…I can’t even talk about that right now. So let me tell you what you did to my friend, okay? Who, for the record, if you even care, is my _only_ friend, ever since you chased Trevor off with your shiny suits and holier than thou morals. Which, let’s be honest, _clearly_ don’t run too deep.”

“I never hurt him,” Harvey declared, just barely getting the words in between breaks in the heated rant.

“Are you serious?” Mike stared back, wide eyed; struck by Harvey’s complete inability to acknowledge his own inhumanity without slipping in some kind of defense tactic that may have been lost on anyone else, but wasn’t on Mike. “Do you _really_ believe that? So all the times that we met up at the bar and he drank just to ‘take the edge off’ before he went to see you, that was, what, for _fun?_ Was he pre-gaming? Or the times he told me he felt used? Or how he never had to tell me at all, because I could read it on his face?”

Mike paused to take a breath, looked back at Harvey and shrugged. There was disappointment in the gesture, and something else that Harvey couldn’t place, but that stung just as badly.  

“You can sit there and you can defend yourself all you want and say that you did him a favor if that helps you sleep at night, but it isn’t true. You _used_ him. And, yeah, maybe you got him through a few months of school but _trust me,_ you gave him other problems that are gonna be a _hell_ of a lot harder to deal with than being broke ever was.”

Harvey ran his hand over his face wearily. Mike’s words were heavy with the truth and they sat on his shoulders along with everything else he’d done – like dead weight, pinning him to his seat, lost for any reply that he didn’t think ran the risk of making the situation worse.

“He’s a good person, Harvey,” Mike added, his voice calm now, but sad. “You shouldn’t do that shit to someone like him.”

“I know.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“Well, you’re not really giving me the chance to say anything else, Mike, are you?”

Mike opened his mouth but before he could snap, a rush of guilt hit him. He felt like in the midst of all of his emotions, maybe he’d steamrolled Harvey. And whether or not he was still mad at him was irrelevant, because Mike wanted so badly to forgive him, to understand _why,_ even if he knew it might be a long shot. There were _some_ extenuating circumstances, like the fact that Harvey hadn’t known they were friends, and Mike hadn’t even met Sean until well after Harvey had already propositioned him. Maybe it was a stretch, but Mike considered it because anything was better than believing Harvey was really the villain in all of it.

So he walked back over to the couch, hesitated briefly before deciding to sit down on the edge of the table instead. That way, he could face Harvey, but wouldn’t be in danger of their knees brushing or any other minimal contact that would be too much to deal with. Apologetically, he lowered his head.

“I don’t know what to say,” Harvey finally admitted. “That’s why I keep saying I know. Because I know I fucked up, Mike, and I’m sorry, but sorry sounds so inadequate. I wasn’t trying to hurt either of you. That’s not what it was about.”

Mike looked up, most of the bitterness leaving his voice. “Then what _was_ it about?”

Harvey took a deep breath. “I wanted you, Mike,” he explained, and Mike looked at him with curious, hopeful eyes. “From the beginning. And then when I thought you were on board, I panicked. You showed up all the time with a movie and I felt like I couldn’t hold out any longer, that I’d do something and I’d regret it because…because we work together. Because you work _for_ me and we’re already treading water as it is trying to keep the Harvard thing a secret.”

Mike winced at the mention of _Harvard._ Not that he ever did forget about it.

“And I was afraid,” Harvey continued. “I was _terrified_ that if we crossed that line, it would all just fall apart. That everything professional would become personal and that if one thing went wrong, our whole relationship would crumble. And I didn’t want to risk losing you completely.”

“Why didn’t you just _tell_ me?” Mike asked.

Harvey looked wounded; sick in the way he looked during the rare occasions he was forced to talk about his feelings. “I don’t know. I would have, eventually. But then—”

“Then you saw Sean.”

“I didn’t plan it, Mike. I mean, I didn’t plan on seeing him. That part just happened, and I thought, maybe this would help. Maybe he could take my mind off you and it wouldn’t be so bad. Then I could go to work and it wouldn’t drive me crazy all day. I thought I just needed to get it out of my system.”

“So did you?”

“No,” Harvey said, looking him in the eye. “It didn’t work. He’s not you and I knew that. I never actually pretended he was. You know that, right?”

Mike just shrugged, fidgeting with his hands and more than a little skeptical considering everything Sean had told him.

“It wasn’t really… _like_ that.” Harvey went on. “It was more that he reminded me of you and I thought – I _hoped –_ that would be enough.”

“Was it?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not like it was a one night stand, Harvey,” Mike told him, voice edging dangerously with renewed contempt. “You’ve been seeing him for almost _three months.”_

“I didn’t mean for it go on so long but I—”

“You liked him.”

“What?”

“You liked him,” Mike repeated, and the revelation crashed down on him just as much as it did on Harvey. “You couldn’t call it off because you realized…you actually like him.”

“I like the part of him that reminds me of you.”

There was a question perched in Mike’s throat that he was dying to ask but was pretty sure he didn’t want the answer to. After several seconds, though, he decided it was now or never. He’d have to know sooner or later. “Do you have feelings for him?”

“Mike…”

“It’s just a question, Harvey. Do you?”

“It was a diversion. It wasn’t about feelings.”

“Then why him?” Mike tossed up his hands. “I mean if it was just a diversion, why not go to a bar and pick up the first dark-haired jailbait frat boy you saw? Why pick the _one guy_ in probably all of Manhattan who could play me in a made-for-TV movie? Jesus, Harvey, you could have anyone you wanted. And you picked him. What the _hell_ does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Harvey replied, sounding and feeling like a broken record. The truth was, he didn’t even know himself what it all meant. He knew what it had started as, but somewhere along the way things had become a lot more complicated, a lot more convoluted and now – now he had no idea. “For God’s sake, Mike, I was…I _paying_ him, okay?”

That was all he could think to say; deflect and hope it wouldn’t backfire.

It did.

 “Yeah, you were paying him so you could keep telling yourself it wasn’t ‘about feelings’. So that he wouldn't let himself get attached, so he’d follow all your rules and never contact you outside the hotel, and you could keep this thing that could potentially get messy, all wrapped up in a nice, clean hotel suite,” Mike laughed caustically. “I mean, holy shit, Harvey, think about it. You make the reservations, you set the times, _you_ make the rules, _you_ call the shots. And he does everything you want, right? And nothing you don’t. He doesn’t call you up in the middle of the night when he’s drunk or invite himself over with some dumb movie or make mistakes or jeopardize your career with a lie. He doesn’t turn in work late or talk back or disagree or anything. It’s perfect, right? All the benefits of a relationship without any of the compromise or commitment.”

Harvey just stared, listening, before looking away, regret – and a little guilt – all over his face.

Across from him on the coffee table, Mike wrung his hands in unrest. “So do you? Have feelings for him?” his voice trembled. “Please don’t lie to me again.”

The pallor to Harvey’s face only intensified when he looked back, and after a long silence and nearly imperceptible nod, confessed, “Some.”

Mike visibly swallowed. “Some? What does that mean?”

Distressed, Harvey rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look, I know you think that I’m some sort of robot, but believe it or not, Mike, I’m actually human under it all. So, yeah, _some._ I thought you’d be happy to know that I’m not a _complete_ sociopath. That I can’t just…routinely screw someone for three months without caring about them a little bit.”

“I…” Mike stood up, his response distant. “I’m…gonna go to bed. You can go now.”

He started to move away but Harvey reached out just a little bit faster, grabbing his wrist.

“Harvey,” he warned, whirling around and giving him a deadly stare. He yanked his arm from Harvey’s grasp. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

Harvey relented, letting go and putting up a hand in surrender. Mike turned away again, this time walking to the fridge for water and his third aspirin of the night.

“You left work today,” Harvey announced, standing up and putting his hands in his pockets. He was tense, rigid in a way that screamed of just how far out of his comfort zone he was. Which was depressing, since Mike’s apartment use to be just that. Now he felt unwelcome, possibly even hated, and he was still too stubborn to do more than sugarcoat an accusatory, half-assed apology. And he didn’t understand why it was so difficult for him in the first place.

“So did you.” Mike’s reply was muffled and spiteful.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

There was the sound of the fridge door slamming shut and Mike spun around, annoyed. _“Why?”_

Harvey kept his cool for the first time that day. “Because I need you there.”

Mike rolled his eyes. For a while, he didn’t say anything, just busied himself with clearing the table and putting away pieces of stray clothing, though it was clear he wouldn’t have bothered otherwise. He thought Harvey might give up and leave. When he didn’t, Mike headed past him toward the bathroom – to piss, but also to just get the hell away for three minutes – throwing an indignant answer over his shoulder as he went.

“I don’t get paid five to seven grand a week to fuck you and I kinda need to make a living, so if you haven’t fired me then yeah, I guess I was planning on coming back.”

Harvey flinched.

Mike shut the bathroom door hard. Through it, Harvey’s voice and footsteps were still audible.

“Why would I fire you?”

“I don’t know,” Mike called out indifferently. “Why does Harvey Specter do any of the things he does?”

Harvey just stared at the door, listening as the running water faded into the background. He’d seriously underestimated how deeply Mike had been affected by everything. It wasn’t that Harvey didn’t expect him to be – he did – but he was also accustomed to the Mike who was quick to forgive and forget. He knew why he couldn’t, but hearing how upset the kid was reminded Harvey of just how big of a mistake he’d really made. Mike couldn’t even hide this level of pain, couldn’t mask it, or bury it, or pretend he wasn’t absolutely leveled. Harvey was floored by this because it meant that he’d completely underestimated not only how much Mike had cared about _him_ – but how much he’d cared about Sean, and that Harvey had never even asked his name. Worse even than all of that, however, was Harvey seeing how devastated Mike was – and knowing he was the reason why.

When the door opened and Mike emerged, Harvey thought briefly that maybe he should call it a night. No need to break the levee and drown in the water all in one fell swoop. But as he watched Mike start to make a beeline for the bed, he reached out for him again, impulsively, because he had nothing left to say that would come close to doing justice to how sorry he really was. They’d talked to each other, listened to some extent, put half the cards on the table – it was bitter and bloody but it sounded like progress. Still, Harvey felt like he was on the verge of losing Mike anyway, and that walking out the door would only seal that fate. So he reacted, did the one thing that came to his mind during that panicked thought – he grabbed Mike’s arm for the second time, pushed him up against the nearest wall and kissed him.

Mike made a small noise of shock just before Harvey’s mouth covered his and muted any impending words or protest.

Harvey kept his hands on Mike’s shoulders, pinning him in place, trying to convey an apology in the form of a long, deep, desperate kiss, because sometimes even Harvey Specter didn’t know what the hell else to do.

He finally pulled away so they could both breathe, and Mike looked back with big, questioning blue eyes that nearly brought Harvey to his knees. It almost looked like the beginning of forgiveness. Almost.

Without any ulterior motives, Harvey leaned in and kissed him again, and this time, Mike kissed back. But then Harvey’s hands slid down to his waist, his mouth slid down to his neck, and Mike’s whole body went rigid.

“Harvey,” he murmured. “Wait.”

“What is it?” Harvey asked, kissing him for a third time, this time gently, trailing his lips back down his neck and nuzzling Mike’s shoulder.

Mike had one hand on the back of Harvey’s head, his fingers betraying him as they slid through his hair, holding him in place instead of pushing him away. “Stop,” he finally said.

With a frustrated breath, Harvey did, lifting his head from its space on Mike’s shoulder where it fit so perfectly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and God, if that wasn’t such a loaded but simple question that could’ve been answered with one word – _everything._

“I just…I can’t.”

Harvey rested his forehead against him. _“Mike…”_

Mike felt an ache in his throat. He felt too many things at once. Guilt, for doing this to Sean because in a strange way he felt like letting Harvey kiss him was somehow a breach in his loyalty to his best friend. Maybe this was how Sean had felt the night before. If it was, then Mike wished he could steal back every horrible thing he’d shouted at him that morning and that afternoon. It was an awful feeling, trying to find the precarious balance between loving two people and not hurting either one of them, and Mike felt like he was constantly slipping.

And then there were the things he couldn’t stop seeing or hearing, as hard he tried; the things that just played over and over in his head: Harvey’s hands sliding around Sean’s waist and pulling him in, Harvey’s voice telling Sean _I missed you_ and calling him _kid_ and _good boy._ And then Mike recounted all of the times Harvey had ever cancelled their plans, all the mornings Harvey had strolled into work like nothing at all had changed, the way Harvey’s hand had felt slamming down hard on his face. And after that, well, Mike just couldn’t do it.

“I just…I can’t,” he whispered, and it was a testament to how much he still loved Harvey that the words came out almost as an apology. “You ruined it, Harvey.”

“No.” Harvey shook his head in denial. “Mike.”

“Just go,” Mike told him, trying to push by. But Harvey caged him in with an arm on either side of his chest.

“No, Mike, wait,” he pleaded. “Wait…just…”

“Just _what,_ Harvey?”

“Just listen to me.”

“I did listen to you.” Mike managed to duck under his arm and take several steps backward, his heart still thumping fast from the kiss. “I don’t wanna listen to you anymore.”

“No, no,” Harvey shook his head, demeanor shifting again in a way that had made Mike uncomfortable earlier in the day, but was now just obnoxious. _“You_ talked. _I_ listened.”

“You hurt my best friend, you hurt me, you lied to us both, and you hit me in the face,” Mike said, voice soft and sad but completely, miserably resigned. He was done indulging Harvey; suddenly exhausted, emotionally depleted from the entire week. “I loved you, Harvey. I loved you the whole time. But now…now I don’t know.”

This time, Harvey didn’t have a response. He just stood and looked at Mike, face blank, expression suddenly just as non-descript as it had been the night before when Mike showed up at his door. It was an intentional lack of emotions on the outside in an effort to mask the flood of them on the inside, and it worked – for the second time in two days, Mike couldn’t tell _what_ he was thinking.

 _“Fuck,”_ Harvey breathed, so quiet and ominous that even several feet away Mike got the feeling it was a red flag for an impending action. And sure enough, three seconds later, Harvey was spinning around and punching the wall with all of the destructive force of his right fist.

Mike stepped back once, but he wasn’t as startled as he might have been a week ago. Harvey had become uncharacteristically unpredictable, and after this afternoon, there wasn't really a whole lot Mike would put past him.

Harvey shook the pain from his hand and downplayed a grimace. He glanced at Mike, at the dent in the wall and then back, helpless. “I’m sorry, Mike.”

When Harvey walked out the door after that, Mike hurried over and locked it. He fell back into bed for the last time, exhaling a breath that felt like an entire week’s worth of both relief and disappointment.

 

*

 **Friday,** **Day 83**

Harvey was home for about an hour after leaving Mike’s – nursing a beer and icing his knuckles – when Sean texted him.

[12:54am] Sean: _I’m coming over.  
_ [12:55am] Harvey: _No you’re not  
_ [12:55am] Sean: _Why??  
_ [12:55am] Harvey: _It’s late_. _  
_[12:56am] Sean: _Yeah I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you_

Harvey had left it at that, assuming Sean would too. But apparently, he’d underestimated just how stubborn the kid really was. Another thing about him that screamed _Mike,_ but Harvey did his best to dismiss that revelation.

“What did I tell you?”

Sean stood in the doorway looking much less intimidated than Harvey hoped. “I told you I was coming over, so here I am. Let me in, it’s cold out.”

He shoved his way past Harvey, who stood there annoyed for several seconds before giving up and stepping to the side.

“Thanks,” Sean muttered sarcastically, like this was the least Harvey could do after everything that had happened.

It wasn’t until Sean took a seat the counter and just sat there staring, that it all clicked.

“You told him.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the friend,” Harvey muttered, more to himself than to Sean. Mike had told him that much, but he was still processing it; still trying to wrap his head around how completely oblivious he’d been for so long, and how cold and distant he had to have come across to Mike if he had never even learned Sean’s name.

“Yeah. You knew that.”

Harvey walked toward him. “You don’t keep any secrets, do you?”

“I thought that was the point of friendship?” Sean asked rhetorically. “Besides, I figured this was an exception.” He paused and motioned toward his face. “Because, you know, it freaked him out. Like a lot.”

“Listen…” Harvey felt like he was on the verge of his first anxiety attack since Jessica had shipped him off to Harvard. “I talked to Mike, so you don’t have to worry about it. All right?”

“Yeah, okay,” Sean rolled his eyes. “Let me just turn off my soul. Wait, nevermind, I don’t have an on-off switch for that. Can I borrow yours?”

Harvey bit his tongue and glanced at his watch. “I have to go to bed, and you have to leave.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

Frustrated, Sean slid off his seat and stood up. “If you wanted to be with him, why didn’t you just be with him? Why string me along?”

“I didn’t string you along, Sean. It was sex. End of story.”

“You didn’t answer me. He loves you. Why fuck that all up?”

“It’s complicated,” Harvey told him bluntly.

“So…” Sean shook his head. “If I’m so much like him, why don’t you give a shit about _me?”_

“I didn’t realize I gave you the impression I don’t give a shit about you.”

Sean thought back to all the times they’d been together, things Harvey had said and done, the way he’d touched him, and conceded that it hadn’t felt insincere. But he still didn’t know if that had anything at all to do with him, or if it was only about Mike, and he had no idea why it was bothering him so much. He wanted Mike to be happy, was now entirely aware of how much Mike cared about Harvey, and he didn’t want to get between them anymore than he already had. But for some reason, he’d never fully considered that in order for that to happen, he had to cut ties with Harvey – completely. Standing there, however, just a few yards away, it felt impossible.

“Are you gonna be with him now?” he finally asked, his voice small, a little defeated; torn between feeling hopeful for Mike and sorry for himself.

“I don’t know.” Harvey replied quietly. “He’s pretty pissed at me.”

They stood there, quiet for several seconds until Harvey ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “You really need to go now.”

“But I—”

“I’m serious, Sean. I’m not in the mood.”

“O- _kay,”_ Sean said, strained and a little petulant, but he didn’t move from where he was standing. He rocked back on his heel and looked less like he was leaving and more like he was asking Harvey for a reason to stay, and a way for him to do that without being a terrible friend. And Harvey would’ve been a hypocrite if he’d said there wasn’t a way, because he’d hurt Mike so much himself he wasn’t sure he even had the right to tell someone else not to. Yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to validate Sean’s request either. So he didn’t say anything.

Agitated, Sean stepped forward and stared him down. “Are we done?”

Harvey ran a hand over his face, exhausted from the day’s events and the crushing weight of his mounting guilt. “I don’t know, Sean. Okay? I need some time. Can you give me that?”

Sean narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” he said coldly, stepping to the side and heading for the door. He stopped halfway there and turned around.

Harvey let out a _what now_ sigh. “ _What?”_

“I’m just wondering what would happen? I mean, you know, if this got out at your firm?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the impact I could have on your reputation,” Sean continued, looking both satisfied with his own ingenuity and cornered by circumstance and emotions. It manifested as an expression on his face that ricocheted between vacancy and heartbreak, and Harvey could read it as clear as a subpoena.

“Are you threatening me?”

Sean scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Harvey stalked toward him, eyes dark in a way that usually disguised concern and unease as anger and confidence. It worked on people like Louis, or on opposing counsel, but it wasn’t working on Sean, who knew that, for once, _he_ had the upper hand. And really, Harvey knew it too, and pretending he didn’t was a waste of energy. So by the time he crossed the room to stand in front of Sean, he dropped the act and leveled with him.

“What do you want?”

“Ugh.” Sean shook his head in disgust. “Is this the part where you offer me more money for my silence?”

“No,” Harvey told him. “I’m already paying you to keep your mouth shut.”

“Technically you stopped paying me last night, remember? You gave me the _Pretty Woman_ speech.”

Harvey looked away, gritted his teeth and struggled for a reply before turning back. “Well, consider this me starting again.”

“I told you I didn't want your money.”

“You said you didn’t want my money, but what you _meant_ was that you didn’t want to be a dirty little secret anymore. Because that—that’s all you were.” Harvey closed most the space between them, searching for any sign that he might be regaining control of the situation. “Well, congratulations. You’re not anymore. We’re done.”

Sean swallowed hard but refused to break, even under Harvey’s impervious stare. He was too angry to let him win this time, too hurt to be intimidated, and too worried about Mike to back down just because Harvey had said something insensitive for the nineteenth time. No. Sean was stronger than that. And if Harvey was at all surprised by this display of confidence, it was his own fault.

“I don’t care.” Sean lied flawlessly, tone certain, body stoic, poker face activated. It was a different struggle inside, but what mattered right then was how well he hid it. And he hid it well.

“You do,” Harvey insisted, though he wasn’t sure if he hoped Sean did or not, and he wasn’t interested in trying to figure out what that meant at the moment.

“Not even a little. I was looking for an out anyway.”

Harvey shrugged. “Good. Then go.”

“I will as soon as you tell me what floor you work on. If you don’t, I’ll just ask Mike.”

“What the fuck do you want, Sean?”

“Nothing.” It was almost enough payback, just watching Harvey sweat. Almost.

Exasperated, Harvey closed his eyes for a second and inhaled a sharp breath. Nobody blackmailed him. Nobody blackmailed him and _won._ Especially not twenty-six year old business majors. But apparently, tonight, they did. And with how he’d treated Sean, and Mike, and with how horribly the whole night had already gone, Harvey didn’t know why he was even surprised. He should’ve seen it coming, should’ve known the very moment all of his lies came full-circle.

But if Sean was actually going to beat him, Harvey was going to make him feel as bad as possible in the process. He was going to make winning taste so bitter that Sean would never try to do it again.

“You look so much better down on your knees begging than you do on your feet threatening me.”

Sean did wince at that, much to Harvey’s short-lived satisfaction, but he still didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll tell Mike you said so.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“I’d rather give Louis Litt something to hold over your head for, oh, I don’t know… _years_. That is his name, right? Hell, maybe I'll skip Louis and go to the press. Go big or go home, right?”

Harvey scowled and tried his best to play it off. “And Mike’s supposed to, what, be grateful that you threatened to make my life more difficult?”

“Give me a break, Harvey.” Sean rolled his eyes. “You made your own life more difficult.”

He wasn’t backing down and Harvey finally decided it was time to change tactics. If Sean was using his weaknesses – his career and Mike – against him, then Harvey would do the same thing. Two could play this game, and Harvey knew exactly where to press until it hurt.

“Sean,” he said affectionately, a complete one-eighty from his previous tone. With how close they already were, he didn’t have to reach out very far to put his hand on Sean's face, just under his jaw, running his thumb gently up and down his chin. “What is it you want, baby?”

“I want you to take me seriously,” Sean demanded, and without really trying, he leaned into Harvey’s touch. He told himself it was just a habit.

“I do take you seriously.”

“You do now. Now that you know I can fuck everything up for you.”

Harvey resisted the urge to slap him, willed himself not to let history repeat, because he’d meant what he said to Mike about Sean, because he still felt like complete shit for letting his anger and impulse take over in his office, and he knew if he succumbed to it again, then living with himself afterwards would be hell. And what Sean was doing wasn’t even retaliation as much as it was some desperate attempt at what seemed like self-preservation, and Harvey couldn’t blame him for that.

“Sean…” he sighed, in favor of what he really wanted to say, which was something in between _Get the fuck out_ and _Come to bed_. He continued to run his fingers up and down Sean’s face, looked at him reverently, like the way he’d looked at him last night, the way he’d looked at him in the hotel, the way he’d looked at him before everything went to hell. The way he looked at Mike.

Sean didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away either.

“Whatever you want…” Harvey started, but he didn’t get a chance to finish.

“I don’t _want_   _ANYTHING!"_ Sean shouted, raising his hand and hitting Harvey’s arm with his wrist hard enough to make it instantly fall away from his face. It wasn’t the whole truth, but he’d said it loud enough, and he’d said it fiercely enough that Harvey believed it – which meant Harvey’s leverage was gone.

“Sean…” he growled.

“I don’t want anything,” Sean repeated. “Just..."

Harvey just looked at him expectantly; waited for another threat that didn’t come.

Finally, Sean leaned forward, his words calculated and as harsh as possible when he said,  _“Don’t ever fucking hit him again.”_

He waited to see if Harvey had anything left to say, but after several seconds and only ashamed, averted brown eyes, Sean discovered that for the first time – out of the bedroom, at least – he’d actually rendered Harvey speechless. It was a technical win, and he was relieved that he’d managed to hold out long enough to stand up for Mike, but at the end of the day, they’d both still lost. And threatening Harvey, though it had its fleeting advantages, wasn't something Sean had ever wanted to do.

He didn’t feel good about any of it when he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

 

*


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soo much for the wonderful feedback! And I'm really sorry for taking so long to update.
> 
> I honestly didn't intend to drag out the angst for another chapter, it just...sort of happened. But please don't write Harvey off quite yet.

*

 

**Friday, Day 83**

 

Sean honestly didn’t know why he was knocking on Harvey’s door or why he’d answered the texts in the first place.

[7:14pm] Harvey: _Are you out of class?  
_ [7:15pm] Sean: _Yeah  
_ [7:15pm] Sean: _Why?  
_ [7:15pm] Harvey: _Come over.  
_ [7:16pm] Sean: _I’m going home._  
[7:16pm] Harvey: _I’m on your way.  
_ [7:17pm] Harvey: _Please.  
_ [7:17pm] Sean: _Fine._

When Harvey answered the door, dressed down in jeans and a black t-shirt, Sean remembered why he’d caved – why he always caved -  and he hated himself a little for it.  

“Come on,” Harvey said, forgoing a greeting in lieu of stepping aside and nodding his head toward the living room.

Sean did, wandering in and feeling a little like a lamb headed for slaughter because he had no idea why Harvey would even want him here after he’d had the guts to threaten him so brazenly the night before. Besides, Sean was exhausted anyway and didn’t have energy to spare for anything except getting home, taking a shower, picking up liquor, and going to Mike’s.

“You look good,” Harvey told him, gaze running up and down Sean’s body. “How was class?”

Sean bit his lip, knowing Harvey was deflecting; knowing he hadn’t invited – er, _commanded_ – him over just to look at him. Something else was going on.

“Four and half hours worth of lecture on Corporate Finance and Investment Analysis,” he replied flatly. “Why? Do you really care or are you just checking to see if the money you spent on it was worth it?”

Harvey shrugged. “Neither.”

“Of course,” Sean said under his breath, lingering a few feet from the kitchen. “So…?”

“So?” 

“I’m not sleeping with you,” he announced, voice not quite as resolute as he’d planned. He looked away shyly from Harvey’s stare.

“Who says I want to sleep with you?”

Harvey’s words were a little cold, a lot cavalier, and Sean winced.

“Then what _do_ you want?” he asked, once he’d finally worked up the nerve. He wasn’t sure how he’d stood up to Harvey last night, but he figured it had to have been some sort of fleeting adrenaline rush spurred by anger, and his concern for Mike. Sean doubted he could ever do something that brave again.

“I want to talk. I think we’ve had a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“That’s what I said.” Harvey stalked closer until they were at a familiar distance. Only tonight Sean wasn’t standing up straight, defensive, fearless – he was slouched back a little, not quite making eye contact as Harvey spoke. “You seem to have forgotten your place.”

“My _place?_ ” Sean scoffed, hoping he sounded more apathetic than anxious. “Like where, on my knees?”

Harvey smirked at his sarcasm. “That too. But I was referring to the stunt you pulled last night.”

“Technically that was this morning.”

“Technically you don’t threaten me and get away with it.”

“And yet, I did.”

Sean regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, but by then it was already too late.

“Look, kid, I was impressed,” Harvey admitted. “I was starting to think you didn’t have it in you.”

“Have _what_ in me?”

“Tenacity. What good is an MBA without it?”

Sean scowled but didn’t object.

“But that was the first and last time you ever, _ever_ blackmail me with my career or with Mike. Understood?”

“It worked,” Sean said under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“It worked, didn’t it? I mean, you’ll never hit him again, will you?”

“I never would have anyway.”

“You already did!”

“I never would’ve done it again, Sean.”

“Yeah, I made sure of that.”

Harvey pressed a finger to his temple in exasperation. “Look, what I did was…inexcusable. But it was an isolated incident, all right? I was stressed, I was tired…I snapped.”

“I don’t _care_ how stressed you were!” Sean lurched forward a little, the only act of courage he could manage under the circumstances, and shoved a finger toward Harvey’s face. “I don’t care if you were working thirty-five cases and losing them all. You. _don’t._ fucking. hit him!”

“Sean…” Harvey growled his name in warning before pushing his hand away from his face. “It was a mistake. Like the one standing in front of me.”

_“What?”_

“You heard me. I’ve made a few mistakes lately. You’re one of them.”

Sean felt his throat tighten and ache like it did any time he’d ever wanted to cry. _“Don’t_ say that.”

“You’re telling me what to say now too?” Harvey raised an eyebrow and then walked away.

“Harvey, I’m _sorry_ I threatened you! I felt like _shit_ after I did it, okay? I was just…I was worried about him.”

Harvey stopped and listened, but didn’t turn around.

“I…I…” Sean stuttered. “I hate being in the middle of you two. I hate having to pick sides, Harvey, I _hate_ it. It’s so unfair. He’s my best friend and I don’t wanna ruin that and I don’t wanna hurt him. But I—you—”

“You what?”

“Huh?”

Harvey turned back to face him again, looking impatient. “You, me, _what?”_

“Nothing.” Sean swallowed thickly. “Nevermind.”

“You gonna start keeping things from me now, Sean? Come on, spit it out.”

“You don’t want to hear it, Harvey. You won’t take me seriously.”

“Try me.”

“You just said I was a mistake!”

“Try me anyway.”

Sean took a deep breath. “Mike loves you so much,” he said, and then dropped his head, lowering his voice to a mumble. “But so do I.”

“What was that?”

“So do I.”

“What?”

_“Harvey…”_

“Say it again, Sean.” Harvey closed in, reached out and tilted Sean’s chin up with two fingers. “You're wrong. I want to hear it.”

“…I love you.”

Sean didn’t expect to hear it back, or even any lukewarm variation of the words, but when all he got in return was complete silence – he panicked.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, shaking his head wildly. “I didn’t try to, I wish I didn’t, I didn’t mean to mess everything up, I didn’t try to get in the middle of you and Mike, I didn’t mean to—”

Harvey leaned in and kissed him, using his tongue to effectively cut off Sean’s frantic, emotional words. But when what he was doing finally sank in, Harvey pulled away, stepped back and wiped his mouth.

“You should go,” he said quietly.

Confused, but not entirely surprised, Sean just nodded. And since he didn’t want to give Mike a reason to hate him all over again, he put his hands in his pockets and headed for the door, trying his hardest to ignore the dizziness in his head and the way his mouth was still tingling.

 

*  
Mike couldn’t bring himself to face Harvey the day after their fight. And apparently, Harvey felt the same way, because he never once summoned Mike into his office or even looked for him in the bullpen. Mike had been both disappointed and relieved, but since he had absolutely no idea what to say, relief won out. He did all of his work from his cubicle and used Donna as a liaison to get things to and from Harvey. There was no telling how much she knew, but it was enough for her to be willing to act as a courier without more than a raised eyebrow. At the end of the day, Mike thanked her, bolted from the firm, and went home without ever having seen Harvey at all.

As promised, Sean showed up at nine thirty with a bottle of Evan Williams and Mike hadn’t been so happy to see him or liquor in a long time.

“Shit, Mike.”

“What?”

Sean pointed. “Your face.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s purple.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“You’re _under_ reacting.”

Mike just swiped the air and dismissed the bruise in favor of getting Sean up to speed on the rest of his day as he walked toward the kitchen.

“So you just hid from him? He didn’t try to find you all day?”

“I didn’t _hide_ from him, Sean. I just didn’t spend half the day in his office like I usually do,” Mike called, digging for clean glasses in his sink. “He didn’t look for me so I didn’t look for him. Besides, I don’t think he knows what to say after last night. And neither do I.”

Sean sighed from his spot on the couch, twisting the cap off of the whiskey. “I wish I could fix this.”

Mike settled for two Solo cups, grabbed soda from the fridge, and joined him. “It’s not your problem, Sean.”

“It kind of is.”

“Harvey made his bed, not you,” Mike told him. “He can sleep in it. Alone.”

Sean smiled weakly and shrugged, pouring the off-brand soda into their cups and then dousing it with bottom shelf liquor. “I call this the poor man’s Jack and Coke,” he declared.

Mike scoffed and took a large gulp. “There, uh…there is something else I didn’t tell you when we were texting earlier. Something else Harvey said.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I might have asked him if he has feelings for you.”

Sean downed his drink too quickly and winced at the burn. _“Why?”_

“And he said yes.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. He said he had _some._ I don’t know what that means but…it means something, because Harvey doesn’t give most people the time of day.”

“Well…” Sean shook his head. He didn’t have it in him to admit to his pit stop at Harvey’s an hour earlier, which he didn’t think had done anything but solidify how much Harvey _didn’t_ have feelings for him. “I don’t know what that means, either, Mike, because I was clearly just a stand-in for you.”

“I never assumed you were, Sean. I just didn’t know what to think, because of how much we look like each other." Mike paused to lean forward and refill their cups. "So maybe he couldn’t call it off because he realized he actually cared about you and he didn’t want it to end.” 

“I guess. But that doesn’t explain everything. Like, why keep paying me?”

“Harvey doesn’t think like us,” Mike explained. “He didn’t even realize how shitty he made you feel until I told him. I mean, he’s so detached that he honestly thought he was _helping_ you. He still doesn’t get _why_ it would upset you. Or me. And he knows I’m pissed but I still don’t think he understands _why.”_

“Sounds like you got far last night.”

“We mostly talked about you. And I screamed at him for like twenty minutes and then he—”

“Punched your wall.” Sean nodded toward the dent in the plaster behind them. “Nice.”

“Yeah.” Mike took a long drink and sighed, slumping back against the couch. “Anyway, the whole point is that he doesn’t look at money like we do, like it’s a necessity. You know, a way to eat, or keep our apartments, or go to school. It’s a commodity to him, it’s disposable. He doesn’t realize that when you don’t have a lot of it, it comes with…”

“Emotions?”

“Yeah, exactly. Like, we associate it with feeling bad because it’s a means to an end and it always runs out, one way or another. But he doesn’t see it that way, so when he was paying you he didn’t think it was a big deal. He had plenty of it and you didn’t and the financial part was just…I don’t know…incidental.”

Sean shrugged, “He did always make it seem like a simple business transaction.”

“And,” Mike continued. “On one hand, he’s starting to actually develop feelings like a human being, which I’m sure probably scared the shit out of him—” he stopped and grinned, “God, I wish I’d seen his face when he figured _that_ out. Anyway, on the other hand he’s feeling guilty because of me, I guess, or whatever, so he thinks if he keeps paying you it’ll keep things casual, maybe keep him from having any _more_ feelings. But that doesn’t work ‘cause he can’t just trick himself into not caring, and he knows you really need the money and he _likes_ you, so he wants to help you, ergo he keeps paying you.”

Sean looked back, slightly impressed.

“Vicious cycle,” Mike finished, raising his cup. He could feel the warmth of the whiskey taking hold, spreading through his body. “And he’s Harvey Specter so he’s thinking, shit, I wasn’t supposed to like this kid but I do and now I’m really fucked because I’m the Tin Man and I’m not actually supposed to have a heart.”

At that, Sean laughed, choking on his drink and shaking his head. “All right,” he conceded, between coughs. “Let’s assume you’re right. So he’s, what, keeping me on the backburner in case you’ve changed your mind? What the hell is his endgame, here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think _he_ even knows. I mean, he didn’t expect to end up caring about you, and nothing has happened to change the reason he thought he couldn’t be with me in the first place. I mean, we still work together. So I guess he’s just confused as fuck.” Mike scoffed and tossed up his hands. “And so am I.”

Sean nodded firmly. “Me too.”

They drank a little more, until they both felt a sufficient buzz, and then pushed the whisky away. Mike turned on the TV and channel surfed in a futile attempt to get his mind off the day and particularly, off of last night.

And then Sean’s phone vibrated loudly on the hard table. He picked it up, frowned, then looked at Mike and muttered, “Shit.”

[9:46pm] Harvey: _Tell Mike to answer his phone  
_ [9:46pm] Harvey:  _You are with him aren't you_

“What?”

“He knows I’m here.” Sean sighed, “What should I tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Mike replied. “I’m not the be-all, end-all to Harvey Specter, believe it or not. You’ve been sleeping with him for months, Sean. Tell him whatever the hell you want.”

Sean ignored the hostility in Mike’s tone because he had a point. He _did_ know Harvey, probably not as well as Mike did, though to enough of an extent that it had to matter. But part of him was still angry for the position Harvey had put him in, and stressed out over being made to feel so trapped that he had to choose between Harvey and his best friend in the first place. Their kiss was hours old now, but it still felt painfully fresh and infinitely confusing to Sean, like it had been a silent, subtle _me too_ in response to his declaration, and also an angry, resounding _shut up_ _._ Last night sat heavy in his stomach, too, and he could still see the look on Harvey’s face when he’d threatened him and he could still feel the ghost of Harvey’s hand where it had cradled the side of his face. There were a lot of things he still wanted to say to Harvey about all of that, but eventually, he sent the only reply he thought would get them all in the least amount of trouble – the truth.

[9:47pm] Sean: _Yes_

“Mike, listen,” he began, resting his phone in his lap. “What you said about…about him not just using me for sex or as substitute for you or…whatever…”

Mike lowered the volume on the TV and turned to give Sean his attention. “What about it?”

“Well,” Sean continued. “Even if it’s true that at some point it really _was_ about me, you should know that before that, it was _definitely_ about you.”

“We’ve been over this,” Mike said dismissively. “And it doesn’t make me feel special or anything. It just makes me feel…inadequate.”

“I know. But hear me out, okay?”

“Fine.”

“The first few times I saw him – I mean, way before he even knew me – he was obviously projecting,” Sean explained. “He was good to me and—”

“Well, I’m glad he didn’t treat you like _complete_ shit _all_ the time,” Mike interrupted. “Seriously. But that doesn’t really make me feel better.”

“Yeah, but think about it. He hardly knew me then at all. He wasn’t being that nice to some random kid he just met. And before you try to say that it was because he couldn’t be a total dick to me and still expect me to sleep with him – that’s irrelevant, because he was paying me enough that he could’ve been a lot worse to me and I probably wouldn’t have complained.” Sean stopped and looked Mike in the eye. “All the times he asked how I was, if I was okay, if I’d had a good day, if I was hungry, if I was happy – that wasn’t foreplay, Mike. It was about you.”

Mike glanced away, sullen. “But I was too much of a risk,” he muttered, turning back and pointing at Sean. “You aren’t. You’re in school, which means whatever you do is gonna be legal. He’d never have to cover for you or lie for you or falsify your academic records to cover his ass. You don’t work with him, so he doesn’t have to worry about his professional life getting all mixed up in his personal life.”

Sean thought about what he’d said to Harvey the night before and looked back with a little incredulity. “You don’t think paying a college student for sex was a risk? You don’t think that could’ve hurt his career? Or at least his image?”

“So you were worth the risk but I wasn’t?” Mike laughed. “You just confirmed my entire point, Sean.”

“I’m saying it _was_ a risk, but that the fallout would only have affected him. And me, maybe, but he doesn’t care about me like he cares about you, so it didn’t matter. You weren’t in the crosshairs, so even if it went south or if one of his clients found out, nothing bad would’ve happened to you. And he wouldn’t have lost you because of it.”

Mike rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’m not defending his logic, Mike,” Sean said. “I’m just saying I think I understand it. The guy has a really screwed up way of showing it, but he loves you.”

“He loves an idealized version of me,” Mike countered. He gave Sean a bittersweet smile. “And I think we both know that’s you.”

The night before flooded back to Sean again, along with every dagger word Harvey had thrown at him in an effort to force him to back down. All of their nights together, every kiss meant for Mike – like the one tonight, he presumed – and every touch, every word, every single instance where he’d dared to wonder – had to be called into question. 

But Sean just looked away and said, “Harvey doesn’t love me.”

“Right.”

“He doesn’t, Mike. Besides, he’s not my type. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“I don’t know, how many times do you have to lie before you convince yourself?”

Sean frowned at that but chose to ignore it, reaching over to tap Mike’s head instead. “I’m really not impressed by this whole memory thing.”

“Please.” Mike smirked, though the remaining whiskey on the table was taunting the ache in his chest. He took a breath and resisted it. “You’re not impressed, you’re jealous. And anyway, Harvey is everyone’s type.”

“Even if that were true,” Sean told him. “He doesn’t want to see me anymore. And I’m not gonna see him after what he did to you so—”

“You’re not being noble by denying yourself what you want based on principle,” Mike cut in. “You can have him, Sean. We can still be friends.”

“Call it principle, call it whatever. I’m not gonna do that to you.”

Mike shrugged. “If you need my blessing, this is it. I don’t own him. In fact, right now, I fucking hate him and he knows it and he doesn’t even want to talk to me about it. Meanwhile, you’re over here in the middle like Switzerland, and all he associates you with is the good part of everything. Lots of sex and no fighting.”

Sean hesitated. He hadn’t told Mike he’d gone to see Harvey first, and he was pretty sure he’d passed the acceptable window of time where telling him wouldn’t start a fight. He didn’t think that having gone there on Mike’s behalf the night before would make either occasion any more forgivable, so he’d stayed quiet – and now it was too late.

“I’m not neutral, okay?” he said finally, because it was all he could think of. “I’m a little pissed too, and if we’re picking sides, then you know I’m on yours. All I said was that I could see where he was coming from, even if it was sort of fucked up.”

Resistance was pointless; Mike gave in and poured some more whiskey. He laughed, sarcastic. “You can? Really? Did you two _bond_ while he was inside you?”

Sean looked down and cringed.

“I’m sorry,” Mike sighed and practically guzzled the drink.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Sean, I—”

“Look, Mike, I know you’re in a shitty position right now, but the view from mine isn’t exactly that great either. I’m just telling you that if you love him, maybe you should stop avoiding him and, you know, actually talk to him. And by talk I mean let _him_ talk instead of yelling at him for twenty minutes like you said you did last night.”

Somewhat stunned, Mike just stared into his empty cup for several seconds. Then he crumpled it in his hands with an obnoxious crackle and tossed it to the floor. “You’re right,” he murmured.

They fell quiet again, and eventually Sean looked down at his lap and realized he’d been ignoring his phone. The light at the top flashed urgently. With an anxious breath, he picked it up.

[9:48pm] Harvey: _Where?  
_ [9:48pm] Harvey: _You’re not very specific for a Business major_

After that, Mike continued to drink more whisky – leaving out the soda altogether and eventually even giving up the cup in favor of just tipping back the whole bottle. Sean texted Harvey back and everything just went downhill from there.

[9:56pm] Sean: _At his place, where do you think???  
_ [9:57pm] Harvey: _I’m coming over_  
[9:57pm] Sean: _Bad idea Harvey_  
[9:57pm] Sean: _He’s still upset and drinking a bottle of whiskey_  
[9:58pm] Harvey: _Too late_

“What’s he saying?” Mike asked. His voice sounded a little heavy. “Is he scheduling your next session? What does he call them anyway? Meetings? Appointments?”

Sean gave him pointed, annoyed look. “He said he’s coming ov—”

The knock on the door jolted them both. And then Mike laughed, loud and bitter.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, still clutching the bottle of whiskey. “Oh my god, this is great! Today just keeps getting better and better.”

“Are you gonna open the door?”

Mike pretended to think about it and then said, “Nope.”

“Mike…” 

[9:59pm] Harvey: _Tell Mike to stop being a brat and open the goddamn door_

“What now?” Mike asked, making a dive for Sean’s phone, snatching it out of his grip and looking at the screen. He snorted, turned toward the door and raised his voice. “Oh, _fuck_ you Harvey!”

Sean didn’t see Mike giving in anytime soon – if at all – so he took it upon himself to stand up, cross the room, and pull open the door.

When Harvey walked in and closed it behind him, Mike sank down into the couch with his whiskey and groaned.

Sean took the seat next to him again, looking almost as uncomfortable as he felt.

Harvey stood in front of them and just glanced from one to the other.

 _“What?”_ Mike snapped. “Oh, wait, I forgot. You’ve never seen us in the same room together.”

Harvey flinched, but this time his first response wasn’t an apology. “Are you drunk?”

Mike slurred a bit, “I’ve been…pacing myself.”

“Drinking right from the bottle,” Harvey observed. “Classy.”

“Paying for sex,” Mike fired back, not missing a beat. He raised his bottle in a toast. “Classy.”

“Don’t start.”

“Go to hell.” Mike turned sideways in the opposite direction, almost completely curled up, knees pulled toward his chest.

Harvey ignored him, this time turning his attention to Sean. “Can we talk?”

Slowly, Sean nodded.

“Outside?” Harvey asked hopefully.

“Can we, um…can we just talk here? Please?”

A foot away, Mike rolled his eyes. Sean wasn’t fooling him. No one said _please_ to Harvey in that tone unless they were at least a few feet deep. And Harvey relented surprisingly fast, too, which evoked another eye-roll from Mike, who continued to drain the remaining whiskey with long, indignant swigs.

Harvey sat on the table across from Sean, and proceeded to talk as though Mike wasn’t sitting right there.

“All right,” he started, the words creeping out awkwardly because, really, apologies were not Harvey’s forte.  “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. It’s what I meant to say earlier when I—”

 “But you came over before you knew I was here,” Sean said, and Harvey looked grateful for the interruption.

“Well, I wanted to talk to Mike too, and I don’t know where you live. So I thought I’d text you later and meet and we could talk then.”

 _“Talk!”_ Mike snickered, glancing from Harvey to Sean. “He wanted to meet you, just to _talk._ Is that a code word?” He looked back at Harvey, “For _fuck?”_

“Do you mind?” Harvey asked, glaring.

Mike shrugged, but resumed his initial stance as a drunken spectator.

Harvey turned toward to Sean again and continued, “I _am_ sorry.”

Sean narrowed his eyes, but for the most part, he was tame, his anger subdued. “For what part?”

“All of it,” Harvey confessed. “For not telling you what was really going on, for taking advantage of your situation in the first place. For ever making you feel like—”

“A whore?”

Harvey sighed, “I was going to say—yeah, I guess…that, too.”

Sean was quiet for a bit, and then, “It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“It was my choice.” Sean shrugged. “I went there on my own and you never made me do anything I didn’t want to do. It made me feel bad in the morning, sometimes, but I can’t put it all on you. So, yeah, it’s…okay.”

Harvey leaned forward and put his hand lightly on Sean’s jaw, just barely cradling his face. Reflexively, Sean leaned into the touch and for a minute, it was déjà vu. But just as quickly as he’d put it there, Harvey’s hand slipped away and when Sean looked up, Harvey’s expression was blank. His apology had sounded genuine, but in its wake Sean just felt cold, confused; wondered if it hadn’t just been Harvey’s way of demonstrating to Mike that he had a soul at all. The doubt was eating him alive, but in the end Sean wasn’t sure what to say about it, so he was silently relieved when their moment was intercepted.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Mike asked petulantly. He made a dramatic show of looking around the room. “Of course, I don’t really know where I’d go, seeing how this is _MY APARTMENT!”_

Incensed, Harvey closed his eyes and extended his hand, “For God’s sake, Mike. Give me the bottle. You’re done.”

Sean sat back and shook his head at the situation.

“You can’t tell me what to do here,” Mike said, almost challengingly. “We’re not at work.”

“Wanna bet?” Harvey reached across the couch and roughly swiped the bottle from Mike’s hand. He marched to the sink and poured what was left – which wasn’t much – down the drain.

Furious, Mike stood up on swaying legs and roared, “God, I’m so _sick_ of you!”

“Maybe I should leave,” Sean suggested, quickly getting to his feet. “You two obviously need to talk and I’m just getting in the middle of it, so…”

“I think you’re already as in the middle of it as you could possibly be, Sean, don’t you think?”

Harvey stared back at Mike from the kitchen, unimpressed.

“I’m still gonna go.” Sean headed for the door. “I’ll text you tomorrow, Mike.”

Mike didn’t respond, just closed his eyes and shook his head in annoyance until the door opened and shut. And then it was just him and Harvey, and somehow the tension ramped up even more.

“Well? Aren’t you gonna follow him?”

“No.” Harvey said, somehow managing to sound stoic and composed – the antithesis of Mike in his intoxicated state.

 _“Why_ not?” Mike asked, staggering a bit to one side. “He has all my good qualities and none of the bad ones, right? I mean, why _wouldn’t_ you want him? Instead of a dropout orphan who takes more than point three seconds to let you off the _fucking_ hook for all of this?”

“What is it you want me to say, Mike?”

Mike just stared at him through bleary eyes.

 _“What?”_ Harvey persisted, voice finally growing impatient. He knew he was provoking him – in fact, that was the goal: to elicit some reaction from Mike that was more progressive than yelling or drinking, because so far neither of those things had gotten them anywhere. “You want to hit me back? Go ahead, Mike. Hit me.”

When Harvey walked over to him, presumably within punching distance, Mike made a pained face at the prospect. “I don’t wanna _hit_ you, Harvey!”

“Well, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Mike. Sean let it go. Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Mike threw up his hands. “I don’t know _why_ I can’t be more like him.”      

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s _exactly_ what you meant!”

“Mike—”

“You treated him like—like shit,” Mike cut in, tripping over his words. “And he…he still forgave you. That isn’t the same as letting it go, Harvey!”

Harvey looked away mid-rant and didn’t turn back until Mike was finished.

“I get why you were pissed, Mike,” he said finally. “I get it—”

Even through all the liquor, Mike recognized Harvey’s low, no-nonsense tone immediately. Nothing good had ever come of it, so he braced himself accordingly; looked down at his feet, bit his lip in nervous anticipation.

“—and I’m sorry that I fucked a guy who looks like you, but you have _got_ to calm down.”

There it was. Mike pressed his teeth down harder into the part of his lip that was still swollen from the day before; an act of masochism that was still a million times less painful than what he was hearing. His head hurt and he couldn’t think clearly enough to decide if he’d really blown things out of proportion, or if he'd been self-involved to think that Harvey screwing Sean had anything to do with him at all. Either way, Mike couldn’t pinpoint what he’d done wrong – all he knew was that he was in trouble.

“And whatever complex you think it gave you?” Harvey continued. “You gotta deal with that on your own time. What you did at work today isn’t gonna fly again. I’m still your boss. That means you work _for_ me, and you don’t do it from your cubicle, and you don’t hand things off to Donna. You get your _ass_ up and _bring_ it to me yourself like you’re supposed to. If you can’t handle that, then…don’t come back to work.”

“I can handle it,” Mike assured him, with a startling amount of certainty given his drunkenness.

“Then get there at seven thirty like the rest of the associates and do your job. I don’t give a shit how hungover you are. Am I clear?”

For a few seconds, Mike was silent, struggling to process Harvey’s words. When he finally did, they stung, all the way to his core, and he had to shut his eyes for several seconds just to cope with it all. Finally, without looking up – and because he really couldn’t afford to lose his job, no matter how upset he still was – he mumbled a less than sober, “Yes, sir.”

Harvey studied him for any signs of sarcasm, but only found what looked and sounded like defeat. Nodding once, he left Mike where he was standing and walked out the door.

 

*


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I'm the slowest person ever, sorry. I try to show a little of all of their perspectives at the same time, which I know can be confusing because of the pronouns, but I'm hoping it turned out okay. And I struggled a little with this chapter but...hopefully it doesn't disappoint? Anyway...THANK YOU for all the amazing feedback! I really appreciate it and I love seeing that there are so many different opinions on what's happening.
> 
> I scanned for typos but if I missed any, forgive me! ;)

*

 

Following Harvey’s ultimatum, Mike spent most of Saturday curled up in bed and throwing up in the toilet. It was predictable punishment for downing the majority of a bottle of whisky in less than an hour, something he hadn’t done since his short stint in college – back when he drank just for the sake of drinking and not to dull some inner pain that no one else seemed to be struggling with.

He could only sporadically text Sean, who was enslaved in midtown working back to back shifts in an effort to bridge the gap in his income, now that he wasn’t receiving regular transfers from Harvey’s bank account.

So for the most part, Mike was on his own to deal with Friday’s fallout. 

 

Sunday passed the same way most did – quickly and dully – and Mike checked his phone several times throughout the day until he decided doing so was bordering on pathetic, and it wouldn’t increase the likelihood of Harvey calling anyway. And really, he wasn’t so sure he actually _wanted_ to talk to him – maybe ever again.

The week loomed ahead like an ominous storm and Mike wondered briefly if he should just take Harvey’s advice and not bother going to back to work at all. Between getting high, he spent more than a few hours considering it; wondering if it was finally time to tap out; cut his losses and leave the firm with a broken heart and a fraction of dignity. Which in the grand scheme of things – given his Harvard secret – could’ve been a lot worse.

 But by the end of the night, reality hit him as it always did, hard and heavy on his shoulders, bitter on his tongue. Eventually, caving to the truth was inevitable. Simply put, he needed his job, he still wanted it, and he wasn’t exactly surrounded by other options. Given his academic record, he couldn’t go back to school even if he could somehow miraculously afford to, and even then, he could never pursue law. His resume wasn’t exactly impressive, his references were pretty much non-existent, and he doubted there were many jobs he could get that would subsist him in a way that didn’t involve a lot of financial struggling – something he’d done enough of his whole adult life. And then there was the nail in the coffin, which was: there was no way in hell he’d pass a drug test for weeks.

On top of all of that, he also felt – perhaps on some pitiful level – that if all he and Harvey were ever meant to be were colleagues, he might just have to learn to settle. It was better than being at odds, better than continuing to insert himself into Harvey’s personal life and be hated as a result.

By midnight, Mike sighed, set his alarm for 6:00, and eventually fell asleep to the not-so-sudden realization that his whole life – his job, his income, his secret, his future – was in Harvey’s increasingly unpredictable hands.

 

*

**Monday, Day 86**

 

Harvey was supposed to be focusing on his client’s email, sitting before him on his computer screen, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get his mind to stay on track, couldn’t keep it from wandering off on other topics like Mike and Sean and guilt. He wasn’t used to that – guilt was an unfamiliar and distractingly uncomfortable feeling – so after a few more seconds, he hit the intercom button a little fiercely.

“Donna,” he said, not quietly. “Get Mike in here.”

Her voice came back somewhat grim. “I can’t find him.”

“What do you mean you can’t find him? Go get him.”

“I looked for him the first time you asked. And the second. I don’t know where he is, Harvey.”

Harvey took a deep a breath through his nose and licked his lips. “Did he even come to work this morning?”

“He was here when I came in at 7:15.”

Sighing, Harvey turned back to the computer, but not before glancing up through the glass to see Donna looking at him with a disapproving frown.

 

*  
Mike had languished in bed that morning, half wanting hide under his pillow and ignore his problems until they went away – one of his habitually ineffectual tactics – but he’d eventually rallied the emotional strength to get up and show up.

By one o’ clock, he’d spent most of the morning in his cubicle, scouring brief after brief, clause after clause, trying hard not to screw up. Not that he often did, but because with all of the tension between him and Harvey, he felt under more pressure than usual. And if he was ever inclined to make a mistake, it would be because of that.  

Periodically, he glanced at his cell phone, a slight pang of disappointment manifesting when no texts from Sean came in. Mike closed his eyes, effortlessly pictured the class schedule he’d seen on Sean’s fridge the last time he’d been in his kitchen, rummaging around for beer. It told him Sean was in class until at least three. After remembering that, Mike felt a fraction less insecure and returned to what he was doing.

Despite the mild sense of dread that had been coiling in his stomach for two days, when it came time to suck it up and bring Harvey the work he’d finished – Mike took a deep breath, and did.

He stood just inside the doorway of Harvey’s office, hardly daring to cross the threshold as though it marked the line between safety and enemy territory. Even from that distance, the tension was already thick enough.

“I, uh, have the—”

Harvey replied before Mike could finish. “Good,” he said, without looking up. He pointed down at his desk.

Mike walked over and set the files down, and then lingered there, trying to wrap his mind around how all of their conversations had been beaten down to such few and sharp words, and in such a relatively short amount of time.

“Is that all?” he asked timidly.

Harvey hesitated, eventually dropping his pen and looking up. “What else is there, Mike? You want more work to do?” He tossed his hands up a little. “‘Cause I have plenty if you’re bored.”

Mike shook his head. He _almost_ said something, something just as abrasive, something like, _What the fuck, Harvey?_ Something a stronger man would do. But Mike wasn’t feeling that brave right now. All the words that had been hurled at him on Friday still prickled at his psyche; pushed down on his shoulders until he felt about three feet tall. And looking at Harvey – who had gone back to writing as if he was already gone – Mike realized he had no motivation to retaliate. He couldn’t do to Harvey what Harvey was doing to him.

So after a few seconds, he just turned around and walked out with a tightness building in his throat that he was all too accustomed to. Trying to ignore it, he started to wander back toward his cubicle and then - as a last ditch effort to keep from going absolutely insane from all of his thinking - made a sudden detour.

He didn’t approach this particular office as cautiously. Instead, he just marched in.

“Louis.”

“How can I help you, Mike?” Louis sounded like he always did: mildly annoyed, a little arrogant but even more uncertain, inconvenienced but quietly pleased with the attention. He glanced up from filing his nails.

“I can help you with the Winston case if you want.”

Louis narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why the sudden altruism? Trouble in paradise?”

He laughed at his own humor.

Mike only frowned. “No. I could just use some more work.” He shrugged and sighed exaggeratedly. “But…if you don’t want my help, I’m sure one of the other associates—”

“No, no,” Louis stopped him. “None of those Harvard idiots know their ass from their elbows. Just getting one of them to do something right is like trying to shoot a fish in a barrel of monkeys.”

“Okay…” Mike looked away and rolled his eyes at another incoherent, self-made metaphor. “So?”

Louis pushed a thick folder toward the edge of the desk. “Winston financials.”

“When do you need them?”

“When can you finish them?”

Mike took the heavy file, held it up and nodded once. “Got it."

 

*

Taking on more work – a lot of it – did, for the most part, what Mike had hoped it would do: distract him. For almost three hours, he was focused so much on the numbers in front of him, that his brain was finally busy enough to the point where he wasn’t constantly thinking about Harvey or Sean or Harvey _and_ Sean or the entire miserable situation as a whole. It wasn’t a complete relief, of course, but it was better than nothing.

Around 5:00, after two coffees, and a Red Bull, Mike came back from the bathroom to discover that his bladder wasn’t the only thing that was finally empty. So were all of the cubicles. It wasn’t unusual for everyone to leave relatively early on some days, if their work was done, and particularly if they were second or third years and Louis was in a magnanimous mood.

So Mike sat back in his chair, sighed, took a breather and shook the cramp from his writing hand. He picked up his phone, which until now, had been abandoned to the corner of his desk since he’d last braved Harvey’s presence.

[4:18pm] Sean Westlee: _I need to talk to you.  
_ [4:19pm] Sean Westlee: _It’s not about Harvey._

Mike frowned.

[5:10pm] Mike Ross: _What is it??_

He waited, a little nervous, for several minutes until his phone finally chirped.

[5:14pm] Sean Westlee: _I’m at work, can I come over later?  
_ [5:14pm] Mike Ross: _Yeah of course_

Sean didn’t text again after that, so Mike eventually slipped his phone into his pocket, along with more than a little twinge of concern, and turned his attention back to what remained of his unfinished work. It was a boring merger – one he could do in his sleep if not for the quantity of it – a greedy corporation trying to absorb a smaller one that didn’t stand a fighting chance. In other words, nothing ethical or unfamiliar – just corporate law nestled into page after page of a monopoly’s profit, and it was boring him almost to sleep. His and Harvey’s cases were far more exciting.

He tried to dive back in, but after fifteen minutes, he grew restless. The bullpen was too quiet, a little dark. Even the white noise started getting to him – a steady whir from the fans, the hum of his computer, somebody coughing somewhere down a hallway – it was all getting under his skin in a way it never had. Sure, he’d stayed late before, many times, particularly after Harvey had first hired him. He could still hear Rachel’s voice, clear as a bell, warning him not to make a bad impression by leaving before nine o’clock. But the difference was, when that happened, he was already in Harvey’s office by the end of the day. In fact, he couldn’t even immediately remember a time when he was forced to work alone before the whole grievous triangle between him and Sean and Harvey began. He just knew that it was a long time ago, and it killed him to think that things had come back to that. 

He leaned in his seat at the thought, closed his eyes in total exhaustion. And then he decided that a chance at not being alone – particularly on this day – was worth the risk that he might be ignored or otherwise rejected. It stemmed from his inability to retain much spite – toward anyone, let alone Harvey – which didn’t mean he’d absolved Harvey of everything just yet – especially after Friday’s downward spiral – but it did mean that he was willing to suffer a little more if there was still a chance to salvage their relationship in any capacity.

And even though Mike knew his best shot at that might be be to just leave Harvey alone for a while, it only took two more minutes before the total solitude shredded all reason down nothing, leaving only an ache behind. He stood up. 

 

*  
For the second time that day, Mike stood cautiously just inside Harvey’s doorway, holding what was left of Louis’s work under his arm. He didn’t know how to ask what he wanted to ask, so he waited for Harvey to break the silence first.

“What is it, Mike?”

Harvey didn’t look up from whatever it was he was typing. His voice sounded bored, a little tired, but not angry. For that, Mike was relieved.

Still nervous, though, and that was evident when he finally, timidly asked, “Um, can I, uh, work in here?”

Mike’s face looked half hopeful and half terrified, and when Harvey finally looked up and saw it, his throat went dry with the guilt that had been festering since early that morning.

“Why? What’s wrong with your cubicle?”

“I…uh…” Mike glanced down at his feet. “Nothing, it’s just, um…everyone’s gone. I mean…all the other associates, they all went home hours ago.”

“Your point?”

“It’s…it’s just me in the bullpen and it’s…” Mike cringed, trying to avoid saying _lonely,_ because it was the truth, but also pathetic. “…Empty.”

“Two weeks ago you didn’t want to leave your cubicle. Remember that?”

“Two weeks ago I didn’t wanna see you and think about you screwing Sean.”

Mike expected an angry reply, something biting, cruel; something that might even make Friday’s words sound tame.

Instead, Harvey’s response was calm, almost resigned. “Mike, I came and got you from the bullpen last week. You’re the one who left.”

“No,” Mike made a confused face and shook his head. He remembered the day the way he remembered everything – vividly. “You hit me. And then _you_ left.”

“Did you come in here just to argue with me?”

“No.”

Harvey was silent for a while, seemingly mulling over Mike’s request, at a loss as to why the kid even wanted to be in the same room with him after everything he’d done and said.

Finally, and for what he thought was Mike’s sake, he said, “I’m leaving in an hour.” He motioned around the room. “When I do, it’s all yours.”

Mike opened his mouth, closed it, words lost on him. Finally he let out hard breath, something between defeated and incredulous, like he didn’t know why Harvey’s apathy surprised him at all anymore. After all, it'd been there in the beginning. So maybe the whole period in between where Harvey had seemed to give a shit, had simply been the exception and not the rule. 

“I…I wanted you in here.” He scoffed, but his voice was quiet, sad. “That was the whole point, Harvey.”

Harvey said nothing, just looked away, his jaw set and tense

“Nevermind,” Mike muttered.

 

*  
“Harvey,” Donna announced. She’d waited until Mike had sulked out again and was out of sight, before marching fearlessly into Harvey’s office. “What’s going on?”

Harvey shook his head, swiveled in his chair a bit so it was easier to avoid making eye contact. He knew what she would see in his eyes – regret, guilt, frustration, uncertainty. It was better just to hide it altogether.

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

“It’s not nothing.”  

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“How long have you been sleeping with his best friend?”

Harvey spun back around in his chair to face her. “How do you even know that?”

Donna raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter _how_ I know or _that_ I know?”

“Donna—”

“Look, it’s a shitty thing to do but it’s none of my business, so I stayed out of it.” She folded her arms. “But don’t you dare tell me it’s nothing for me to worry about when Mike walks out of this office thirty seconds after you with a bloody lip.”

If there was any reply coming, Donna didn't wait for it. “What did you do to him, Harvey?” she asked, her voice a little more gentle.

 _“Nothing.”_ Harvey cringed at his own lie, and eventually, under the weight of Donna’s disappointed stare, he caved. “I messed up,” he admitted, looking down at his desk. “I feel like shit.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“What?”

“That you screwed up and you feel bad about it. Did you tell Mike that?”

“No. Because I don’t know to fix it.” Harvey took a deep, shaky breath, knowing he sounded helpless. “I’ve never not known how to _fix_ something, Donna.”

Donna slowly made her way to his desk, stood on her toes so she could sit on the edge.

“Harvey, I know you’re afraid to admit you did something wrong. And if you were telling Jessica, or a client, or..." she stopped and shrugged, "...your worst enemy, then I’d get it. But we’re talking about Mike here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Harvey didn't say anything at first, but Donna could practically _see_ his answer come to him, almost automatically.

Finally, voice low, he told her, “He could leave.”

“He won’t.”

“But he could.”

“He won’t,” Donna persisted.

“How can you know that?"

“Because he’s still here, Harvey,” she explained. “I don’t know what else you did, but I can tell from the look on your face that you put that kid through hell. And he still showed up today. And last week. And the week before that. If he wanted to leave...Harvey, he’d be gone.”

“He doesn't have anywhere else to go. Doesn't mean he wants to be here.”

Donna frowned at his logic. “If he’s put up with all of your crap for so long, why do you think he’s going to tap out the minute you take a _fraction_ of responsibility for it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Jesus, Harvey, stop worrying about your ego for ten seconds and try to remember that Mike is the _one_ person in the world who _isn’t_ going to think any less of you if you admit you feel emotions like a normal person. He isn’t going to think that you’re weak. You’re still going to be Superman to him. He’s still going to love you.”

Harvey scoffed quietly. “He shouldn’t. Love me.”

“Maybe not,” Donna conceded. “But if you don’t tell him how you feel soon, Harvey, eventually that kid _is_ going to leave. Maybe not now, maybe not even physically, but over time, a little more every day, until you stop talking to each other, and he stops taking your cases. And it won’t be because he wants to, and it won’t be because it’s the easy way out, but because it’ll hurt less than staying. And you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

With a little less sympathy than she had for Mike, but with a good degree of it nonetheless, she looked at Harvey for a few more seconds before giving him a weak smile, touching his hand supportively, and then carefully slipping off the desk and walking out.

*  
Harvey stared out the windows in his office long after Donna’s lecture; long after she’d neatened her desk, said goodbye, and left the building.

It was past six o’clock by that point, and Harvey could technically leave whenever he wanted to, but there was something about his office at this time, when the hallways gradually dimmed, and the sky darkened. It was his space, it was quiet, peaceful; he could _think_ without interruption, without the phone ringing, or Louis barging inside.

When he looked over at the empty couch, though, he felt a pang that made him want to pull out the scotch. There was no one across the room, no one working quietly, dutifully, no one asking him questions or laughing, no cans of energy drinks full of sugar, no empty takeout boxes, no revelations. No evidence at all of their old, comfortable routine.

Harvey resisted the urge to drink. It wasn’t easy, but ultimately he was successful. Because there was something he wanted more than to be drunk. So alternatively, he picked up his cell phone, scrolled through his contacts, and if his finger trembled just the slightest bit, well, no one would ever know.

[6:19pm] Harvey Specter: _Mike._

He expected either no reply, or something understandably petulant like _What??_ or even _Go to hell_. Given Mike’s lack of self-preservation, Harvey shouldn’t have been surprised when he got a quick, passive text instead.

[6:21pm] Mike Ross: _Hey_

Harvey was bothered by it more than a little, because he wanted Mike to stand up for himself, but he didn't have a right to be. He’d shot down every attempt Mike had made to do just that. And though he'd been teaching Mike to be strong, to develop the stomach and thick skin he needed for the job - literally taking a brilliant legal model and shaping him into the best lawyer he'd ever seen - Harvey realized he'd all been systematically destroying those very qualities. And the outcome was that now, Mike had no fight left in him at all. 

[6:22pm] Harvey Specter: _I was wrong today. Come over tonight._

This time Mike took a little longer to respond, and briefly, Harvey panicked.

[6:25pm] Mike Ross: _Why  
_ [6:25pm] Harvey Specter: _To talk.  
_ [6:26pm] Mike Ross: _Talk or yell at me?  
_ [6:26pm] Harvey Specter: _Talk.  
_ [6:27pm] Mike Ross: _Sean is coming over later so when?  
_ [6:27pm] Harvey Specter: _Whenever. I’m leaving work now.  
_ [6:28pm] Mike Ross: _I’m still here doing work for Louis._

Harvey cringed a little, trying not to care that Mike had gone to Louis for anything at all.

[6:28pm] Harvey Specter: _Just text me when you’re on your way  
_ [6:29pm] Mike Ross: _ok_

Knowing it shouldn’t have been that easy, that it wasn’t a _good_ thing for Mike to be so agreeable given everything that had happened, Harvey still left for the night feeling more than a little relieved.

 

*

When Sean finally texted around 8:15 to say he wouldn’t be over until after work – which was several hours away – Mike decided he might as well leave the firm and go to Harvey’s first; save himself the extra trip to and from Brooklyn, because it wasn’t like riding a bike that far at night was something he did for his health.

[8:16pm] Mike Ross: _You ok til then?_

He’d had a sinking feeling in his stomach the whole day after Sean’s first text. Because the only thing they ever discussed that was particularly negative was their massive plight with Harvey. Everything else usually ended in laughter. Even the dismal realities of work and school and a lack of family were placated by the fact that they could actually talk to each other about it. So Mike wasn’t sure what was going on, but it made him nervous.

Tempted to call, he decided to wait another minute for a reply. He knew Sean couldn’t talk on the phone at work anyway.

[8:17pm] Sean Westlee: _Yeah_

Mike wasn’t entirely satisfied, but he took Sean at his word. There wasn’t much else he could do from there anyway, so he set down his phone, gathered up his finished work and dropped it off on Louis’s desk on his way out. Then – with more than a little anxiety – he headed to Harvey’s.

 

*  
Mike didn’t know what to expect when he walked in. Not an apology – that would be too much, too soon for Harvey. But he thought – _hoped_ – it might be something better, something more progressive than their non-communication at work. Hell, Mike would take anything positive at this point – a masked ‘sorry’, a half-smile, the slightest, most meager praise Harvey could manage. But he wasn’t going to ask for it. He wasn’t going to ask Harvey for anything else at all.

What Mike didn’t expect was continued cruelty, because it seemed like that would defeat purpose of Harvey having asked him over or saying _I was wrong today._ But then again, Harvey was full of surprises lately.

“We have to stop seeing each other outside of work,” were the first things out of his mouth, and Mike just stood in front of the kitchen and stared at him. The words sounded a little awkward, a little forced, like they were a cover for something else he wanted to say.

“I didn’t know we were seeing each other,” Mike replied, voice bitter and sarcastic.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Not really.”

Harvey had a glass of half-gone scotch in one hand – he couldn’t hold out all night, after all – and he gesticulated with the other. “This thing where I go to your place and you come to mine and we…hang out—”

Mike scoffed loudly, astounded because… _what?_ “When the hell is the last time we ever ‘hung out’, Harvey? You haven’t wanted me around since you met Sean.”

“That’s not true.”

“And,” Mike continued. “First of all, I don’t _ask_ you to come over. You just do whenever you feel like it. Tonight you told _me_ to come here! And for what? To tell me _not_ to? Do you even…” he paused to make a frustrated sound and wring his hands. “Do you even know how _confusing_ that is?!”

Harvey finished off his scotch a little fast. “I know, but it’s the last time. It’s unprofessional.”

Mike didn’t say anything for a minute because his mind was racing, and it looked like there was more Harvey wanted to say. But when he didn’t, when he just silently passed by, Mike followed him into the living room and finally found his voice. “Unprofessional?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

Harvey turned around and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t say ‘fucking’? Is that unprofessional too? Is it as unprofessional as having an affair with someone who looks just like me? And paying them for it? And lying about it? And hitting me in the face?”

“Mike…”

“What about barging into my apartment and kissing me and punching a hole in my wall? Because that’s what _you_ did, Harvey. So who’s really the one being ‘unprofessional?’”

 “Listen, Mike,” Harvey sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “I’m not doing this to be a jerk. But we can’t work together like this. And I know you can’t leave. So let me help you by getting us back to where we should have stayed.”

“Which was where?”

“Where I’m your boss, you’re my associate, we win our cases, we do our job, and we go our separate ways. That’s how it should be.”

“Give me a break, Harvey. You haven’t been _professional_ since day one.”

 “What does that mean?” Harvey asked, more than a little defensive.

“I don’t know.” Mike shrugged. “You hiring me in the first place?”

“You wanna quit?”

 _“No._ But I couldn’t anyway and you know it.”

“So what the hell do you wanna do, Mike?” Harvey sounded exasperated. “You wanna lodge a complaint? Wanna take a walk to HR tomorrow?”

Mike shook his head, laughter like acid on his lips. “You don’t _get it,”_ he explained. “I don’t _want_ to fucking report you, Harvey. And I don’t want to hit you back. And I don’t want to put you through any of the shit you put me and Sean through. That’s the whole fucking point! I told you I _loved_ you! I don’t _want_ to hurt you!”

By this point, Mike was nearly hysterical and Harvey had to walk away, back to the kitchen to refill his glass. Mike followed, unsurprisingly, like a particularly willful cat that gets shoved off a table but keeps jumping back up with the hope that the consequences might suddenly change. He braced himself against the counter, heart pounding from adrenaline, and tried to calm down.

Finally, from several feet away, following an audible swallow of scotch, he heard Harvey’s low voice.

“You don’t love me, Mike.”

Mike was slow to respond, but when he did, his voice had fallen soft, dejected. “Yeah, by all means,” he muttered, almost more to himself than Harvey. “Tell me how I feel.”

“You love the image,” Harvey told him.

“What?”

“You love the law, Mike. Just like me. And I’m an extension of that. You’re projecting.”

“I guess you would know about projecting.”

Harvey barreled on, ignoring the interruption, “The lifestyle, the company, the money. You’re just putting a face to the society of law. I’m convenient because I’m here, because I gave you a chance, because we’re keeping a secret that our careers depend on.” He paused and his voice hardened a little when he motioned between them, “And because you don’t have anyone else. But that’s not love, Mike.”

Mike tried to process Harvey’s words, convinced he couldn’t have possibly heard what he’d heard, because if he had, then so much of what he’d believed to be true was completely off base. For a while, he just stared at him, a little distracted, because Harvey was standing there, hair free of product as though he’d showered it all out, shirt loose, belt gone, and yet he was still so _incredibly handsome_ that Mike didn’t understand this new realization that was sinking in. It didn’t make sense. Then again, somehow, it explained everything.

“Wow,” Mike finally managed. “And all this time I thought you were a narcissist.”

When Harvey not only didn’t respond, but looked away, focusing his eyes on his drink, Mike continued.

“You’re not though,” he observed sadly. Mike had always struggled with self-esteem – along with doubt and insecurity and an understandable ingrained fear of abandonment stemming from childhood – but he’d been convinced those were _his_ issues. Certainly not Harvey Specter’s. Not the best closer in the city whose head hardly fit through the double doors of a courtroom.

“God, Harvey. Do you even like yourself a _little_ bit?”

There was a long silence after that, and somehow – despite all of their interactions so far today – it didn’t feel awkward or even tense. In fact, at least for Mike, it almost felt like a considerable amount of weight was lifting from his shoulders. Not because seeing Harvey feel like he did was at all a good thing, but because it meant Harvey was finally letting him in. And that was all Mike had ever wanted.

Then Harvey lifted his head, extended his arm, and hurled his now-empty glass as hard as he could against a nearby cabinet, literally shattering the lull in sound. It hit the floor with an ear-ringing glass-on-tile crack as the shards scattered.

Frozen, Mike flashed back Harvey slapping him, back to Harvey punching a hole in his wall, and he couldn’t move for nearly a full minute. Finally – and cautiously – he stepped further into the kitchen until he was a precarious couple of feet from Harvey’s turned back.

All he said, carefully, softly, was, “Harvey.”

With a death grip on the edge of the counter, Harvey leaned forward until he had to lower his elbows onto the marble in order to hold himself up. Hearing his name on Mike’s lips grounded him in a way that nothing and no one else ever did. Because when Mike said it, it wasn’t a question, or a demand, or an accusation. It just was.

“I don’t why you care about me so much,” he said, standing up and turning around. “I treat you like shit.”

Mike noticed the wetness in Harvey’s eyes when he faced him, and Harvey did too, because he reached up and wiped them dry as fast he could.

“You treat yourself like shit.”

Harvey finally moved from where he was standing, walked in a careful circle around Mike to avoid both him and the scattered glass by their feet. He headed back into the living room, shooting Mike a _Yeah, right_ look.

Mike was right behind him, saying, “You screw up and you don’t let anyone forgive you. You lose one case and… you let it cancel out all the wins.”

“You a shrink now, Mike?” Harvey collapsed onto the couch, looking ahead blankly.

“…No.” Mike didn’t want an argument, so he just inched closer and asked, “Can I sit down?”

Harvey shrugged, motioning lethargically toward the seat beside him.

Mike took the offer for what it was and sat down, toeing off his shoes and tucking his feet underneath him. It was a habit he hadn’t kicked from all the times he’d curled up here after slipping in a DVD. Harvey had never said anything about it then, and if he noticed tonight, it was no exception.

When Harvey was the first to speak again, Mike was grateful. He felt like could exhale.

“A little while after you started,” Harvey began, still looking ahead, averting his eyes because he was fighting an internal battle with himself over the shame dredged up by all of his latest indiscretions and it made it almost impossible for him to make eye contact without wanting to dissolve. “About six months, I guess. I remember this feeling I got when someone gave you a hard time. A client, Louis, Kyle…even Jessica.”

“A feeling?” Mike asked curiously, when Harvey hesitated.

“Yeah. Like I was…helpless. Louis and Kyle were easy to ward off, and I know you could’ve handled it on your own. But I didn’t want you to have to. The clients, though, we had to put up with it. And Jessica wasn’t so keen on you at the time. Nothing I said to her would’ve made her cut you a break.”

Harvey sighed and waved his hand, “All I’m saying is, I wanted to protect you. I swear to god I thought if someone ever hurt you, I’d break their neck.”

He eventually glanced over at Mike, who was looking back earnestly. “Now I’m that someone.”

Mike shook his head slowly. “No, you’re not.”

Harvey ran a hand over his face. “Mike. Stop defending me. I make you feel like shit.”

“I feel like shit because for the past three months I thought you hated _me,”_   Mike told him. “But apparently I had it backwards.”

Harvey didn’t dispute that, which was enough of a confirmation in itself. Instead, he said, somewhat ambivalently, “Sean came over Friday night.”

Mike frowned, it wasn’t a drastic change in topic, but it still caught him off guard. “What?”

“I should have told you then but I didn’t so…I’m telling you now,” Harvey continued. Donna’s voice was like a subtle but perpetual mantra deep inside his head. “I know it’s a day late, dollar short. But I’m trying to be honest, Mike.”

Mike’s voice was a little small when he spoke. “You slept with him…again?”

His stomach was doing a strange but familiar sort of twisting, though on a smaller scale than other times he’d found out about similar revelations. Part of him just didn’t care anymore. Not in the sense that it didn’t bother him, or it didn’t hurt him, but in the sense that he was too _tired_ care. All he’d done for months was care and hurt and endure, and now, sitting there, hearing what he was hearing – he simply verged on numb. In a depressing way, it was almost relief. Apathy was its own kind of hell – Mike knew that – but at least it didn’t burn quite as hot.

Harvey thought back to the night and replied, “No, I didn't. He just told me something. I...kissed him. And then I told him to leave.”

“Told you _what?”_

“Doesn’t matter, Mike.”

“I thought you were being _honest?”_

“Look,” Harvey sighed. “He’s confused. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

Mike was literally the opposite of an idiot, so it didn’t take him more than six seconds realize exactly what Harvey was trying to tiptoe around.

“He loves you.” Mike didn’t even ask, didn’t need to. Sean had vehemently denied it, over and over – with his persistent declaration that Harvey wasn’t his type – but all it had done was make Mike wonder even more. And besides, in spite of his major, Sean was actually a terrible liar.

Mike got off the couch and walked over to the window, looked through it at all of the lights, even had the intrusive, fleeting thought about what it would be like to see this view every day. But given the circumstances, that idea seemed so unlikely that Mike just closed his eyes and winced until it passed.

Behind him, Harvey shrugged. “He put me up on a pedestal like you did. He hasn’t seen me when I fall off it. If he did, he’d be gone. Which begs the question: why aren’t you?”

Mike spun around, didn’t move from where he stood, but stared Harvey down. “Because I can’t leave you,” he admitted, more than a little frustration in his voice. “I tried and I _can’t.”_

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Then why do I still feel like _I’m_ not good enough?”

Harvey didn’t answer, just leaned over to rest his face in his hands.

Aggravated, Mike walked back over. “What about Sean?”

“What about him, Mike?” Harvey sounded tired and overwhelmed now, like his confessions were both an exalting relief and a crushing burden and he couldn’t deal with both, plus Mike’s questions, all at the same time.

“Do you love him?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

He glanced up at Mike and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, _Mike._ I’m sure.”

“But you still have feelings for him.”

“I never lied to you about that.”

Somewhere across the room, Harvey heard his phone vibrating, but ignored it.

“Fine,” Mike said impatiently. “So, we all hate ourselves. What now?”

There was an _I don’t know, but—_ on Harvey’s tongue, and it didn’t have time to slide off before there were several somewhat frantic knocks on the door.

“Expecting someone?” Mike asked, not rhetorically, as Harvey got to his feet.

Harvey didn’t answer, but his expression said _no._

Mike didn’t follow this time, though he was tempted, because up until a few months ago a large percentage of his job consisted of doing just that. 

“What are you doing here?”

Harvey’s voice echoed through the condo into Mike’s ears, and it sounded like he was making an effort to sound surprised, or even annoyed, but the attempt failed miserably and his words were a little strained at best, gentle and curious at their core. And Mike knew immediately who he was talking to, just like he knew every answer to every question on every page of the LSAT.

“Uh, because I don’t have anywhere else to go, Harvey.” Sean’s voice was soft, but Mike still heard it, clear as day, before striding into the hallway.

Sean nodded past Harvey at Mike, his voice unusually weak.  “Hey," he said. "I left work early but when I called to see if you were—”

“You didn't call me."

"Yeah, I did." Sean’s face contorted; he looked offended, maybe even a little incredulous at Mike's tone. “And I texted you like ten times, Mike. You never answered me.”

Mike ran his hands up and down his pockets, realized they were empty, and closed his eyes in exasperation when he thought back; when he could see himself setting his phone on his desk at work and then grabbing everything but it before he left.

"Shit..." Sometimes he swore his memory had no practical use. “I guess I left it...I..."

Before he could apologize or question Sean's motives or decide between the two, Mike thought back to the urgent texts he’d gotten that day. And all of the unease and the anxiety he’d felt when he’d read them started to settle in again, this time more heavily.

Sean looked pale and tired in a way that was beyond the usual, which spoke volumes since he already looked overworked and overdrawn most of the time. There was something off about his expression, something red and raw about the edges of his eyes, something in his voice that sounded urgent, even desperate; something just _wrong._

Harvey noticed his distress too – possibly even before Mike. He’d sized Sean up in twenty-five seconds and his hand went tight around the side of the door in dread or concern or both, before he reached out mercifully and tugged him inside.

 

*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this chapter is sorta Sean-centric. Since he ultimately plays a big role in what happens between Harvey and Mike, I thought it was necessary. But I know some people like him and some people don’t and I completely understand both of those opinions. Also, more angst (for now). Sorry, it just happened!
> 
> Updated a couple tags/warnings. I looked over this quickly at 3am when I was exhausted, because I am dumb, so if I missed any typos...forgive me~ Enough rambling. Thank you all for the amazing feedback, it seriously makes my day – especially when I’m at work or feeling down. I love you all.

 *

 

Harvey led Sean just inside the kitchen, filled a glass with water and set it on the counter in front of him. It was really only intended as a gesture of comfort, because when someone looked the way Sean did – which was, by now, practically catatonic – water was just about useless. Still, Sean picked it up anyway and took a grateful, if shaky, sip.

“What happened?” Harvey asked finally, voice quiet, patient.

Sean’s face was paler than ever, eyes in a blank stare on either the floor or Harvey’s shirt, but never his face, and definitely not his eyes.

Mike was standing across the room, watching. For a minute, he completely lost sight of Sean’s expression. He couldn’t see how grave it was, how sick he looked, or how he appeared to be shouldering some horrible secret and it was weighing him down like lead. Because for that moment, all Mike could focus on was Sean’s proximity to Harvey and the way Harvey reached up and touched his arm like he was trying to transfer the courage to speak through their skin. Then Mike’s mind spiraled into other thoughts, about their skin touching, about all the things Sean had told him Harvey did in bed – long before he even cared; long before he’d even known it was Harvey that Sean was seeing. But now Mike knew. Now he cared.

So it wasn’t intentional – this sudden disconnect from the glaring problem at hand – it just happened. Mike didn’t _try_ to forget about the ominous text messages or the way Sean’s voice had quivered in the doorway when he’d told Harvey he had nowhere else to go. Or the way he was standing several yards away looking railroaded by some kind of emotion Mike still couldn’t quite place. Regret? Devastation? _Grief?_ Either way, Mike didn’t try to ignore that. He didn’t _try_ to see red.

A volt of jealousy hit him in a way it never had before. It was much stronger than when he’d found out the truth that night – when he’d first heard Harvey’s voice on the other end of Sean’s phone – or even when he’d followed Harvey to the hotel. He could, even now, still hear the sound of clothes rustling in the speaker of his cell phone and the gravel in Harvey’s voice when he’d said _Good boy_. But none of that had necessarily translated into jealousy – at least not in the traditional sense – and _definitely_ never in this capacity. He’d felt defeated, inadequate, confused, and a dozen other colliding emotions that had consecutively piled up inside him and worn him down; shredded him into this miserable shell of person who had been trying to figure out what the hell was so wrong with him – what made him so unlovable – that Harvey had to resort to a better replica. But between that feeling and even his heated arguments with Sean, for the most part, all Mike had ever been was hurt. And he’d always, at his core, understood Sean. Because he knew what it was like to be that desperate: to jump at the opportunity for a second chance. To be drowning for so long that you grab the first lifeline you can find. To ignore someone’s motives and cling to their mercy like it’s the first anyone has ever offered and the last you might ever get.

Mike also knew what it was like to fall for Harvey. He knew how fast and hard it could happen. So he couldn’t fault Sean for sleeping with him for money – or for loving him after the fact. For all of Harvey’s iniquity, loving him was like the tail end of a really bad storm; fierce and relentless but then just sunny enough to make all the energy spent worth it. It wasn’t logical or even healthy, probably, but it was the best thing Mike felt like he’d ever done with his life; the most he’d ever loved since his parents died, and the only time he’d been _in_ love in twenty-three years.

So he couldn’t crucify Sean for feeling the same way; for making mistakes, for being desperate, for loving a man who didn’t know how to love back. They were cut from the same cloth. After all, his relationship with Harvey – though less sexual and more corporate – wasn’t so different, or even less quid pro quo, at the end of the day. Mike couldn’t vilify Sean without vilifying himself.

And if his blood wasn’t on the verge of a simmer, he might have remembered all this. He might have calmed down, might’ve been rational; might have walk up to Sean and gently pried the truth from him. But he didn’t, couldn’t see beyond how heavily the jealousy was settling in, taking up space in his head, chest, even his veins. One minute he’d been worried sick, his heartbeat pounding in dread because of how terrified he was for his best friend – and the next, he was shooting daggers across the room at Sean’s side, adrenaline pumping through him and his mind screaming _no_ and none of it even made sense, but it was _happening._ And Mike couldn’t stop it.

He glanced wildly from Harvey to Sean, and when he caught Harvey’s questioning gaze, he shrugged more than a little dramatically.

_“What?”_

Harvey just nodded toward Sean, whose head hung a little, and who still hadn’t given any answers. It looked like they were waiting for something, and when it clicked, Mike scoffed loudly in disbelief.

“What? You want me to _leave?_ Seriously?”

“Just give us a minute,” Harvey replied, and his voice was soft but his tone was unmistakable: he was warning Mike not to argue. “Can you do that?”

Mike’s eyes were still darting back and forth between them, and Harvey’s words ricocheted around in his brain, filing themselves away, and Mike knew they’d spring up again to haunt him - probably a few days from now when he was trying to sleep, or work, or exist without turmoil. Harvey was staring back, eyes dark, commanding, but he wasn’t moving away from Sean. In fact, if anything, Sean had crept an inch or so closer to Harvey. Mike wanted to fucking explode.

And he kind of did.

“I was here _first!”_ he shouted, and it was loud enough and unexpected enough that it actually scared himself quiet for a few seconds. Across the room, Sean’s head snapped up for the first time, eyes wide. Harvey’s stare remained, possibly growing a little colder, but of the three of them, he looked the least surprised by Mike’s outburst.

A little embarrassed – but not embarrassed enough to reel in the absolute raw jealousy still scalding him from the inside out – Mike repeated, in a quiet but equally insistent chant, almost more to himself than anyone else: “I was here first. I was here first. I was here first.”

It was clear that he wasn’t only talking about tonight, about Harvey’s condo or his physical location, but about Harvey’s _life_ in general. And the message wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. 

“I’m sorry, Mike…” Sean finally said.

Mike shook his head, unimpressed with the apology. “So do I still have to leave? Or can you tell us both what the problem is now that you’ve found your fucking voicebox?”

 _“Mike,”_ Harvey cut in, his voice stern. “Stop.”

“Stop _what?”_

Harvey raised an eyebrow and Mike knew _what,_ but it didn’t calm him down; didn’t give him enough of an incentive to back off. Especially not now that he knew Harvey’s big secret, his kryptonite, his black hole of self-hatred and doubt. Not that Mike would ever, ever, _ever_ use it against him, but knowing Harvey had expressed more vulnerability in one evening than in an entire year was enough for Mike to know that he could probably get away with murder right now and be no worse for wear even after Harvey was done with him.

He looked at Sean expectantly. “Well?”

“I wanted to see you, Mike. But you didn’t answer your phone. I came here because, after you? I don’t have anyone but Harvey.”

“You don’t ‘ _have’_ him anymore.”

Between the dismal tone of his voice, Sean found a split second of fiery self-defense to reply, “And you never did.”

Harvey closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, but he didn’t have time to intercept the argument before it continued, quickly devolving from bitter to cruel.

“Well, at least I’m not a whore.”

Even in his fury, Mike knew instantly that he’d crossed a line, and in half a second he already regretted the words. But by then, it was too late to take them back.

“Aren’t you, though?” Sean asked rhetorically, stepping forward. “I mean, you don’t get to fuck him, but you do everything else for him and if you didn’t, we both know you’d be pretty screwed, right? So we’re still in the same sinking boat, Mike. Right?”

“Hey. Whoa.” Harvey reached out, grabbed Sean’s shoulder and steered him away from Mike. “What the hell is going on? Tell me. Right now.”

Sean opened his mouth, like he was on the precipice of caving. But then Mike took a few strides in their direction, and everything went to hell from there.

“Why do you always have to come here? Why do you look for reasons to fucking _come here?”_

“Are you fucking kidding me, Mike?!” Sean’s voice was quaking now, though less from anger and more from sadness, Harvey was realizing. “I wanted to go to my best friend. But my best friend didn’t answer his fucking phone. So where the _fuck_ was I suppose to go?!”

Mike shrugged and threw up his hands. “I don’t know, Jersey? I don’t really fucking care.”

“Yeah, right, Jersey.” Sean rolled his eyes. “Like anyone would be there.”

“Oh, what, you don’t have parents?”

“No, not really.”

“Yeah? Are they dead?”

“No,” Sean’s voice was defeated, but certain. He didn’t want to fight, but he wouldn’t back down from one either. “But I am to them.”

Mike didn’t say anything for a beat, and Harvey looked at him, wondering when he was going to run out of steam. Half tempted to physically guide Mike out the door or lock him in the bathroom, and half tempted to let the two of them hash it out, once and for all, he stood there beside Sean, torn, and just watched.

“So this is…what…” Mike shook his head, smiled bitterly. “Some unresolved bullshit from when they disowned you for coming out when you were seventeen? Because that was almost ten years ago, Sean, so maybe you should get the fuck over it. At least you have parents who are breathing. And a brother—”

Sean visibly flinched. Harvey could feel it under the hand he still had on his shoulder.

“And a sister…” Mike continued. “You’re not all alone and you don’t know what it’s like to be. So you don’t get to play that card,” he pointed briefly and cautiously at Harvey. “And you don’t get to make him feel bad for you now.”

It was that particular vitriol from Mike that finally broke Sean, and he said, a little accusingly, a little wrecked, but mostly just numb, “My brother’s dead.”

His words hit the silent room like acid or a lightning strike.

Mike just stared, his body stilling. Eventually he managed a half-whispered, half-gasped, _“Huh—what?”_

Sean tried to step closer but Harvey reached out for his hand.

“Hey, hey. Come here.”

“Harvey…”

“What _happened?”_

“I need to tell him something,” Sean said, nodding at Mike. “Let me go.”

Harvey frowned. Sean didn’t even sound like himself but he was already tugging out of the grasp, so Harvey just sighed and let him go.

Sean took several tentative steps toward Mike, gradually closing their gap until they were nearly as close as Sean had been to Harvey. It pushed the limit between personal and intimate, but it wasn’t groundbreaking for either of them. They’d leaned against each other on Mike’s couch getting high, fallen asleep feet away from one another on Sean’s bed on top of a combination of his homework and Mike’s case files. They’d never given it much thought.

Now, though, Mike was acutely aware of how little distance there was between them. He could almost feel Sean’s breath on his face, but he didn’t back up. Neither did Sean, whose hands were at his side, arms tense, and Mike wondered for a second if Sean was going to hit him. If so, he hoped he’d hurry up, just do it, just get it over with, because he knew he deserved it. But if Sean hit anything like Harvey did, Mike also knew it was going to hurt like hell.

He braced himself, but nothing happened. Sean didn't raise his hand. He didn’t move. He just looked at Mike sadly and then opened his mouth.

“My sister is _eight_ years older than me,” he started, his voice a disaster of trembling highs and lows. “I haven’t talked to her since I was your age and she was God knows where…” He paused to swallow and blink back tears. “I don’t know her anymore. And when someone asks her if she has a little brother, I don’t know what she tells them.”

Mike listened this time. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t push back, didn’t walk away. He just listened, glancing down every few words because seeing Sean on the verge of crying was more than he could deal with. It hit too close to home.

“And the last time I called my parents, it went to voicemail,” Sean continued. He was on a roll now, but it was a tenuous one, and his voice hadn’t gained any traction at all. Every sentence still cracked with emotion. “I finally told them I'd been back in school for a while. Because, I thought, you know, that might be enough. That just… _maybe_ it would be enough for them to care. That it would make up for what…for who I am.”

He shook his head, felt a stray tear on his face, and clawed it away with Harvey-like insecurity before his eyes found Mike’s again.

“I didn’t hear from them for months. Three days after I met Harvey, my dad called, asked me when I was supposed to graduate. I told him, _Spring, hopefully._ I didn’t tell him that I didn’t even have enough money for this semester. But I thought if there was even just a _chance_ he might talk to me again, I’d find some way – _any_ way – to stay in school. Until then, it was the same thing: I couldn’t come home if I was still 'confused'.”

Mike had so much he wanted to say, apologies he wanted to form, questions he wanted to ask – but Sean’s eyes pleaded silently for the opportunity to keep talking – to tell Mike the whole story, the one Mike, for the most part, already knew, but had selfishly manipulated into a less tragic version of his own history. So he stayed quiet; let Sean keep the stage a while longer.

In the background, Harvey folded his arms tight against his chest to keep himself from intervening.

Sean took a deep breath to summon the strength to keep going.

“My brother got halfway through med school before he found coke. And then heroin. And then got caught,” he explained. “Before that, we did everything together. He was only four years older than me, but I worshiped him. And our parents were so proud. When I used to tell him I wanted to be just like him, he’d say, ‘you already are, Sean. You already are’. I’d ask him, then, ‘why don’t mom and dad visit? Why don’t they call? Why don’t they ask me about the Dean’s List? Why don’t they tell me they love me?’” Sean stopped, laughed soft and sad. This time when the tears came, he didn’t bother wiping them away. It was Mike he was talking to, after all. “He’d hug me, but he wouldn’t say anything. I was twenty, though. I knew why. We were just alike, but…he was straight. So they picked him.”

“Sean…” Mike cut in carefully. “I…”

“No, Mike, wait.” Sean squeezed his eyes shut tight, like he was in physical pain. “Please.”

So Mike stopped, fell quiet again and nodded.

“Even after he got busted, after he got nine years upstate for possession, I was still back of the queue,” Sean shrugged. “I didn’t care. I mean, I was used to it. And I loved my brother, I didn’t want them to abandon him too. But I never got to see him. Never could afford the three trains it would’ve taken to get there. And I missed him every single day.”

Sean took another deep breath, but this time something in his throat caught and the rest of his words were like the prelude to a endless sob that Mike and Harvey were both helpless to stop, even if they could have suddenly seen what was coming.

“I got a call this morning, when I was in class.”

Mike breathed in through his nose, barely able to swallow down the painful lump building in his throat. He thought that having dealt with so much bad news in his own life would’ve prepared him better for something like this, but dread was settling back into his chest for the third time that day and it was a feeling that made him nauseas enough to want to throw up.

“My parents never call me and they definitely never leave messages and they _definitely_ don’t ask me to call them back. But this time they did,” Sean said, pushing through yet another break in his voice. “My mom was crying and she had to give the phone to my dad, and he was crying too, and I just…I knew. But I asked him anyway. He said a guard found my brother at six a.m., needle in his arm. Massive heroin overdose. Told me when the funeral was and hung up.”

Sean steadied himself long enough to level his eyes with Mike’s.

“So I know you’ve been through hell, Mike, and I’m not trying to say I’ve had it worse. Because I don’t think anything that ever happened to me invalidates what happened to you. I know you lost your parents. I know they’re dead and you can never get them back and you’re right, I have _no idea_ what that feels like. But they loved you. I can tell from the way you talk about them that they loved you more than anything in the world for eleven years.”

He waited for Mike’s small nod in agreement before adding, “Well, my parents have _hated_ me for just as a long. And it...did something to me…it fucked me up in a way that no one except you has ever understood.”

“I know,” Mike mumbled. “I still do, Sean.”

“I’m not trying to get between you two anymore. I never…I never meant to do that, Mike, I swear.” A little breathless and half-crying, Sean turned away just enough to nod in Harvey’s direction. “But as long as he still lets me in the door, I can’t stop coming here. So you can trust me or not, but either way—” He tossed up his hands helplessly. “I need you both.”

Mike stared at his feet for a while, feeling like an asshole. Sean lingered in front of him for several seconds before retreating, scrubbing his face with his hands as he headed toward the bathroom. In his wake, Harvey wandered a little closer to Mike, his voice restrained and serious.

“I didn’t know about his brother.”

Mike frowned, “That he was in prison or that he’s dead now? Because the second part was a first for me too.”

“No. I didn’t even know he had a brother.”

Mike caught the diminutive trace of shame in Harvey’s voice, but he rolled his eyes anyway.

“Hey,” Harvey told him, a little defensive. “I don't know everything, okay? Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like shit.”

“All you can do is say the same thing, over and over, Harvey. ‘I feel like shit. I feel like shit.’ Well, guess what? Usually if you treat people like shit, that’s what happens. It’s called karma.”

“You just ripped him to shreds, Mike. Am I really the one you’re pissed off at right now?”

Mike looked away and sighed, “No. Yes. No. I don’t know.”

A door opened and closed and Sean emerged from around the corner, eyes still glassy but drier than before. It was evident he’d already spent most of the day crying, and he wasn’t sure he had any tears left in him. Then again, he’d thought the same thing around eight thirty that morning and had still sobbed again later, for forty-five minutes on a campus step. So really there was no telling.

There was thirty seconds of awkward silence, where they all stood in a large, literal triangle between the kitchen and the living room,  none of them particularly sure what to say. Since Harvey knew both Sean and Mike were especially talented in the cold shoulder department, and because he didn’t want to stand there the _entire_ night, he decided he had to be the adult and speak up.

“You can stay,” he said, knowing his words sounded a little forced, because any gesture of hospitality – however genuine – still didn’t come easy to him. “…If you want.”

Mike studied him for a couple seconds and then asked, “Who?”

Harvey had already turned to walk away – specifically, into the kitchen to find something containing enough liquor to dull his headache – but he still heard the question, still caught the tiniest fragment of fear in it.

“Both of you,” he replied, looking over his shoulder and finding Mike's face. “All right?”

Mike nodded in relief. He knew Harvey wasn’t obligated to let him stay and after he’d completely lost it on Sean, he already felt a little guilty about not just apologizing profusely and leaving. But he couldn’t, didn’t want to, and now that he knew what was wrong, he decided that – if it wasn’t too late – he could still be what Sean needed.

So for the next few hours, they sat on Harvey’s couch and talked. Quietly, at first, and every now and then for the first thirty minutes, Sean’s voice would take a tearful turn. And then he’d compose himself and they’d carry on, Mike even evoking a laugh in him that made Harvey look up from where he was sitting behind the counter, sipping scotch and looking at his emails but not really reading them. 

It was only the second time they’d all been in the same room together. And while it had gone to shit the last time and was, at best, tense earlier tonight, at the moment things seemed to have calmed. In fact, it was somewhat fascinating to watch them, Harvey realized, peering over his laptop in their direction. They were like mirror images from this distance, even their voices sounding like they rolled off their tongues at the same frequency. But now he could see the line – however thin – that separated them; the one that told him where Sean ended and Mike began.

Just how close they really were; how codependent – though not in way that was necessarily bad – hit Harvey somewhere around the time that Sean said something, words a little less broken, a little less lonely, that made Mike laugh and lean in to briefly rest his forehead against Sean’s shoulder. They needed each other and they were still joined at the theoretical hip, despite all of the fights they’d had that Harvey knew he was at the center of. And he understood now what he’d come so close to destroying.

But none of those revelations were enough to prevent the next uncomfortable turn the night took when it started pushing midnight, and Mike started yawning, and Sean looked stricken and lost again. Harvey was just as exhausted and he suddenly realized he had to, at some point, actually figure out where to put them.

The couch couldn’t fit them both under the most contortionist of positions and since Harvey didn’t typically have any platonic overnight visitors, the guest room was both bed-less and useless. He decided to change first and put off dealing with the predicament for ten more minutes. When he came out of the bedroom, the way Sean and Mike both looked up wasn't lost on him. He pretended not to notice.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Mike volunteered, and Harvey wasn't especially surprised. Something told him Mike had probably slept on a few floors in his lifetime.

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He wandered to a closet, pulled out a pillow and a couple blankets, and set them on the coffee table in a heap. “One of you can take the couch.”

Mike didn't wait very long before he got to his feet, picked up a blanket and started unfolding it.

“Can you move,” he said softly, trying to nudge Sean. It wasn't a question as much as it was a very tired, resigned request. Sean complied quickly, standing up and moving out of the way so Mike could make the couch sleep-worthy. And they both knew. And they both knew that the other knew.

So when Mike looked back to grab the pillow, he wasn't surprised to see that Sean was already gone.

“It’s just a technicality, Mike.” Harvey’s voice came out of nowhere, making Mike flinch a little. “We don’t work together.”

Mike didn't respond, just adjusted the pillow a dozen times as though he couldn’t quite get it right. Which was how he felt about most things lately. He didn't look up when Harvey emerged from the kitchen and stopped in front of him, holding out a glass of water.

“I don’t need it,” he said, going for spite and only sounding politely regretful.

Harvey set it down on the table. “You might get thirsty later.”

“Probably not,” Mike muttered.

“Mike,” Harvey sounded a little strained, verging on a weird kind of amused that he always got when Mike exuded this much angst. Mostly because Harvey didn't know how to deal with it. “Where did you want him to sleep?”

“I don’t care.”

“Your attitude says differently.”

Flustered, Mike dropped the corner of a blanket with an indignant huff and looked up. “I don’t want to sleep in your bed, Harvey, if that’s what you think.”

“I think you can’t stand him being anywhere near me. But you can’t get pissed off at him about it, so you take it out on me.”

Mike scoffed. _“I_ don’t take anything out you, Harvey. You’re the one who uses everyone else as an emotional punching bag. Including yourself.” When Harvey just stared back, features drawn tight, expression all authority and possibly even bordering on disappointment, Mike squirmed a little. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re at the office,” Mike explained. “And you’re all like trying to be professional and my boss and blah blah blah.”

“I am your boss.”

“Yeah, but we’re not at work. So it’s weird.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Because it’s not the same when we’re here. It feels...different. Plus you kissed me, so…”

Harvey breathed sharply through his nose at the memory before pushing it out of his brain – for now. “Listen, Mike,” he took a step closer. “Sean and I are just sleeping.”

“Oh, really?” Mike gave him his best _How dumb do you think I am?_ face. “Because I thought you two were going to _fuck_ while I was out here on the couch.”

Harvey sighed, said nothing, instead reached out and pulled him into a hug. Mike didn't even fight it, he just pressed his face into the spot between Harvey’s neck and shoulder, hoping that if he was still enough and quiet enough, Harvey might never let go.

When Harvey ultimately did pull away, though, Mike gripped his biceps to keep him from stepping backwards and out of reach. “Wait.”

“Mike—” Harvey opened his mouth to say something coherent in response, but Mike was already surging up toward his mouth. He put up his hands quickly, gently catching Mike around his jaws and stopping him just shy of what would have possibly been a disastrous kiss. Tonight had already been a rollercoaster of emotions for all of them and if Harvey was feeling the effects, he knew Mike had to be depleted.

“We have court tomorrow,” he reminded, serious but not stern. He continued to frame Mike’s face. “Get some sleep.”

With that, he let his hands slide down Mike’s neck and eventually off altogether, and then walked away.

Mike looked at the floor until Harvey was gone, and then he lied down and curled up under the blanket. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was the sound of running water and the bedroom door being shut.

 

*


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! So, I always ramble on and on in the notes for some reason (sorry). This chapter was almost longer but I think it made more sense to stop where it did. Anyway, I'm close to the end, maybe 3ish chapters left? Please note the tags have changed and/or I added some, and will again if I need too. Hopefully the adjustments don't scare anyone off. This started off at 8 chapters but got a little out of hand, which is why things changed. But most of the ending I'd written is the same. Just taking the scenic (angsty?) route and getting to the same place...which I hope everyone will be ultimately be happy with.
> 
> Thank you for the amazing reviews, as always <3 
> 
> (as a side note, if anyone still happens to be wondering about Atlanta, I didn't totally abandon it! I'm working on the final chapter.)

*

 

 **Tuesday,** **Day 87**

Harvey had heard someone shuffling around in his living room at an ungodly hour, before there was even any light coming through the window, and he’d considered getting up to investigate until the fog in his head lifted just enough for him to remember that it was probably Mike.

The next time he woke up, it was to a familiar song blasting through the strained speakers of a cell phone, and sunlight was sprawled out on half the bed. 

Harvey waited. And waited.

Then, with an irritated sigh, he leaned over the body that was curled up against him, grabbed the phone off the nightstand and started tapping whatever buttons he could find on the screen until the music stopped.

Sean finally stirred.

“What?” he asked sleepily, when he saw that Harvey was half-sitting up, looking down at him.

“How do you always sleep through that?” Harvey asked. He waved the phone in front of Sean’s face before tossing it onto an empty space on the mattress. “Next time I’m throwing it out the goddamn window.”

Sean just looked back, expression tired and apologetic, before frowning when Harvey’s words sunk in. “Next time?”

Harvey rolled his eyes, because he’d realized what he’d said two seconds after he’d said it, and he should have known better than to think it would go over Sean’s head.

“You know what I meant.”

“Not really.”

“It’s 8 o’clock. Do you have class today or what?”

Sean shifted and mumbled, “Yeah.”

“Are you going?” Harvey asked, this time more gently.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“All right.”

Harvey climbed out of bed, took his thoughts about the night before with him into the kitchen, where he leisurely started coffee. The whole evening played out in his mind and it had been draining and emotionally taxing for all of them. But he knew that whatever it had been for him – or Mike, for that matter – was probably ten times worse for Sean.

He stood behind the counter and stared into the living room, where he could see that Mike had folded the blankets into a neat stack on one end of the couch, and it made him smile a little in spite of everything that was still wrong.

When the coffee finished, Harvey poured a cup and headed back to the bedroom. Sean hadn’t moved from his place in the bed, though now he was staring out the window in a daze.

“Is Mike gone?” he asked Harvey absently.

 “He better be, or he’s fired.”

Sean ignored the attempt at humor, his voice still monotone, expression still downcast. “So does he hate me now?”

Harvey pushed off of the doorjamb where he was standing, and sat on the bed by Sean’s feet. “He wasn’t excited about you staying in here, but he doesn’t hate you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know Mike. He’s loyal. Maybe even when he shouldn’t be, but he is.”

There was a long silence after that, where Harvey sipped his coffee and just sat with a reassuring hand on Sean’s leg for a few minutes.

Finally, he squeezed gently and asked, “You want to talk about it?”

Sean responded slowly, rolling onto his back and lifting his head so they could face each other. “My brother?” he scoffed. “You didn’t even know I _had_ one, Harvey.”

Harvey replaced his coffee and shrugged. “You never told me.”

“You never asked.”

“Well, I wasn’t paying you to tell me your life story, Sean.”

Sean disguised the pain on his face with a bitter smile. “Fair enough, Harvey,” he sighed, before turning away again.

“Hey.” Harvey moved to settle down further up on the bed, this time sitting back against the headboard and putting a tentative hand on Sean’s shoulder. “I was a jerk…”

“Was?”

_“…Am.”_

Somewhat satisfied, Sean rolled over again and looked up expectantly.

“I didn’t care about anything when we first…” Harvey fumbled for the words. “…started. I didn’t care about you.”

“And what, you do now?”

Harvey looked down and nodded slowly. “Yes.”

They stayed like that, ten minutes, maybe, with Sean just looking up at the ceiling, Harvey’s fingers carding through his hair almost of their own accord.

“I have to get ready for work.”

Sean took a deep breath, “I know,” he said. And as he watched Harvey get up and walk toward the bathroom, he asked, a little nervously, “Do I have to leave?”

Harvey turned around enough to shake his head.

Then there was the sound of water, and the flush of the toilet, and the click of a cabinet, and Sean had just managed to exhale when Harvey reappeared in the bathroom doorway, only a towel around his waist, and nodded over his shoulder. It was the same unmistakable invitation Sean remembered from the third time they’d ever woken up in the same bed together. 

But they weren’t in a hotel anymore. Sean wasn’t a secret; Harvey no longer a mystery. Mike was gone for the day, and whatever it was Harvey was offering – affection, support, sex, attention – Sean was too broken, to _decimated_ to resist. In fact, he found himself getting out of bed before he’d considered the implications and repercussions of doing so. Or he was simply too numb to care.

In the middle of the heat and humidity of the shower, though, reality settled in. The past twenty-four hours seemed like they’d only been a suspension of that; like he’d been caught somewhere between shock and denial and it wasn’t until he’d had enough sleep and was in the confines of Harvey’s glass shower, under a constant stream of hot water, that it all really hit him – and hard. He put his hands up in front of his face as a whimper robbed him of any words and everything raced through his head all at once: His brother. His parents. Mike. Harvey. Work. School. Money or the lackthereof. It was all more than he was emotionally equipped to handle, and when Harvey tugged him forward, he face-planted into the strong, slick chest and sobbed. The harder he cried and wailed, the more he could nearly tell his tears from the water by the way they were stinging his skin like grief itself.

And Harvey – having never intended on getting his life all tangled up with one orphan – just held Sean tight and wondered how the hell he’d ended up with two.

 

*

When 9:15 came and went and Harvey still hadn’t showed up for work, Mike took it upon himself to set up a makeshift workstation in his office – on his couch – the way he used to. The bullpen in the morning was loud and chaotic. In fact, these days it seemed like it was one extreme or another there – distracting mayhem or isolating silence – and neither was conducive to getting anything done. Harvey’s office, on the other hand, was just serene enough, and with just enough life outside the glass walls, to lull him into that autopilot state of concentration.

He didn’t know where he and Harvey stood after last night, if they were better or worse off – or the same – and he wasn’t even sure how he felt about the whole ordeal because all of his emotions melded together into the same obsessive, anxiety-inducing cluster of thoughts. He couldn’t even sort them out long enough to decide which issue to confront first, and it made the abilities of his brain feel far more like a curse than a blessing.

One feeling Mike _could_ pinpoint, however, was concern. Even if part of him resented how quickly Sean had allowed a single nod from Harvey lure him into bed, they were still best friends. And he still felt a heaviness in the pit of stomach that he assumed was the end result of sympathy and empathy and regret colliding with a strong dose of nausea that washed over him whenever he pictured Sean’s grief-stricken face.

He sent a text:

[9:19am] Mike Ross: _Are you ok?  
_ [9:20am] Mike Ross: _Come over after work if you want_

So far it had gone unanswered, which both quelled and elevated his concern but for different reasons.

“He’s running late.”

Startled, Mike glanced up. Donna stood at the door, more than a little sympathy in her voice, as if Mike had set up camp for some reason other than a deep-seated need for some sense of professional familiarity. Maybe she was right.

Mike blinked before muttering a soft, “I know,” and going back to work.

 

Thirty-four minutes later, when Harvey walked in, Mike began picking up his things.

“Where are you going?”

He stood up, fumbled with a file, and shrugged. “I—I figured you might not want me in here.”

Harvey set his briefcase down on his desk and looked mildly affronted. “Mike, I’m not the one who kicked you out, remember?”

Tempted to bring up several occasions where Harvey had in fact kicked him out – or at least made this space so inhospitable and unbearable that he had no choice _but_ to leave – Mike bit his tongue instead. He knew that if he and Harvey stood even the most remote chance at reconciliation, then he had to bury the hatchet. Even if his imagination still found him touching the side of his face at the slightest tingle.

Dismissing those incidents, however difficult, Harvey was technically right. Mike had mostly slinked off to his cubicle all on his own because he’d had no idea how to confront their problems. And the longer he’d stayed away, the more awkward it was to be back. So he averted his eyes, settled back into his seat, and tried to pick up where he’d left off.

But Harvey’s voice quickly interrupted his attempt.

“We have court at one. Are you ready?”

“Aren’t I always?”

“A little early for the attitude, don’t you think?”

“Early? It’s ten o’clock, Harvey.” Mike glanced up at the following silence to meet brown eyes staring back disapprovingly and adjusted his answer with a confident but polite, “I’m ready.”

“Good.” Harvey said curtly, sitting behind his desk and opening his laptop. After a few minutes he added, “Connor, Inc. rescheduled their deposition.”

“For when?”

“Four o’clock tomorrow.”

“So?”

“I want you to come.”

Without really trying, Mike laughed dryly under his breath.

 _“What,_ Mike?”

“Nothing, I was just…wondering if that was only the first time you said that today.”

Mike realized he was pushing his luck, and bit his lip. But after several long seconds, Harvey sighed heavily, a telltale sign that he’d let the comment – and probably the whole discussion – go.

Relieved, Mike once again tried to delve back into productivity. Except one glance at his cell phone, sitting a foot away on the couch, and a renewed sense of worry prickled beneath his skin.

“Um. Is Sean okay?” he asked cautiously. Harvey looked one hundred percent done with talking to him already and they’d only been in the same room for fifteen minutes. Mike couldn’t say he blamed him this time; he knew he was being a smartass. It’s just that he wasn’t doing it for no reason. He hurt, still, and possibly even more now that he knew Harvey’s suits hid more than just minor false bravado. Because it meant he was hurting for both of them, and Mike wasn’t sure how long he could bear that kind of burden. Sometimes it was hard enough just being himself. 

“He seemed okay when I left.” Harvey responded absently, not looking up from whatever it was he was typing, which irritated Mike more than a little because he figured it it meant Harvey wasn’t concerned or he had a reason not to be.

“I’m sure he did.”

The clicking of Harvey’s keyboard stopped abruptly.

“I didn’t mean okay as in _great,_ Mike. I meant okay as in it was probably okay to leave him alone, but that maybe we shouldn’t if we can help it.”

“I know. I texted him to come to my place after he’s out of work,” Mike replied. He nervously shuffled some papers as he added, “Sorry if…that means you have to jerk off tonight.”

Harvey opened his mouth and then closed it, taking a deep but quiet breath through his nose in lieu of shouting, which is what he wanted to do. Instead, with repressed composure, he said, “We didn’t have sex, Mike.”

“I don’t care if you did.”

“Then _why_   are you doing this?”

“I don’t know,” Mike spit, leaning back and tossing up his hands. “Why can’t you make up your mind?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Why can’t you make a decision? Why is it _me_ one day and _him_ the next? Why do you kiss me and screw him?" Mike was almost frantic, nearly shouting, gesticulating wildly. "Why are you still paying his way through school while I'm trapped here, no way up, no way out? Why can’t you just make up your _fucking_ mind?!”

Harvey stared him down dangerously, raising an eyebrow until Mike lowered his voice and then looked away altogether. The room became silent and the silence became more and more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by.

“I think that after today you and I should probably…” Harvey’s voice was low, regretful. “You should probably work with another partner for a while.”

Mike’s head snapped up quickly, eyes blue and questioning and, after everything, still a little shocked.

“What—Seriously?”

Harvey continued but didn’t look at him. “I think Reeves on the 43rd needs a new associate. Otherwise you can check with Louis and he’ll assign you to somebody.”

“Harvey—”

“Ray’s picking us up at 12:30, Mike. Don’t be late.”

Adrenaline rushing, Mike stood up, gathered his work into a less than orderly stack, and approached Harvey’s desk.

“If I go to the 43rd floor…” he began, voice surprisingly stoic given the current war he was waging against what felt like an oncoming panic attack. “…If you cut me loose? I am _never_ coming back.”

Mike waited until it was clear that Harvey didn’t have a response, and then dropped the files next to the computer with a slight slap.

“Connor files,” he said roughly, spinning around to leave and adding, over his shoulder, “I guess you can give them to whoever you take to the deposition tomorrow.”

“Mike—” Harvey called, quiet and half-hearted and almost too late. But Mike turned around anyway.

“You’re asking me pick one of you over the other—” Harvey’s voice was strained and a little apologetic. “And I can’t do that right now, Mike.”

Mike looked back for a few seconds and then shrugged sadly. “I think you just did.”

 

*

Twelve-thirty came way too fast and part of Mike had wished it would never come at all. His anxiety still thrummed beneath the surface as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

A quick survey of the curb told him that their ride was there, but Harvey wasn’t. He sighed, waved through the window at Ray, and waited.

Six minutes later, Harvey strolled up, though now that Mike knew what he knew, the whole buttoned-up confidence thing looked riddled with cracks. It showed in the way Harvey’s jaw was set, lips drawn tight, shoulders tense.

“Let’s go,” was all he said, nodding toward the car.

Mike bit back a remark about how Harvey Specter could be late but no one else could be late. Instead, he just rolled his eyes and complied, opening the door and sliding across the seat before Harvey had a chance to bark at him for not using the other door.

There was a sizeable distance between them, considering the confines, but Mike could feel an anxiety much stronger than his radiating from the right side of the car. He looked over to see Harvey’s eyes darting from the window to the windshield and back, fingers tapping his thigh over and over in a jerky, sporadic rhythm that seemed to intensify the longer Ray drove.  

“You’re scared,” Mike observed gently.

Harvey didn’t deny it the way he might have a few days ago, but he did deflect, saying, “It’s a big case, Mike,” and continuing to tap his leg. “There’s a lot at stake for the firm.”

“I know,” Mike conceded. “But I’ve memorized everything about it. There’s nothing I don’t know. And our witnesses are rattle-proof. Tanner isn’t gonna know what hit him.” He placed a tentative hand on top of Harvey’s, watching as the tapping stilled almost instantly. “Harvey,” he said. “We got this.”

Eventually Harvey nodded and exhaled an overdue breath as he glanced down at the reassuring hand still resting gently on his own, before slowly looking up at Mike.

There was an expression on his face that Mike recognized right away, because he’d seen it more times than he could count in the past week alone. It was earnest and desperate and the slightest bit hopeful and Mike knew that, at least for now, it was the only way Harvey knew how to say sorry.

It probably wouldn’t have been enough for someone else, but Mike just tightened his fingers around Harvey’s hand and smiled a little. “I know,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

 

*

Sean was caught in the middle of regretting having ever met Harvey and not regretting it at all. Partly because he loved the man – accidentally and incidentally as it happened – and because as a result of that fateful trip to the bank, he’d also met Mike. And Mike had gotten him through more than a few rough patches, through family problems, and all-nighters, and midterms, and hangovers, and secrets he couldn’t trust anyone else to keep. So really, the whole thing was a disaster – but it was a disaster Sean had kind of needed.

The only problem was that after everything had blown up in his face, the only place he’d ended up was in Harvey’s shower, sobbing, clinging desperately to two strong shoulders, and too hysterical to even care about whether or not he was overreacting or if maybe, at twenty-six, there were more subdued ways to handle what had happened. Sean had been too tired, too overwhelmed, too far gone to give a shit about any of that, and there had been no one around to witness his meltdown anyway, except for Harvey, who had just pulled him tight with slippery hands and let him ride it out. They’d seen all sorts of emotion from each other before then anyway: Anger, happiness, frustration. They knew what the other looked like in the throes of orgasmic pleasure, knew the exact string of profanity that skated off their tongues at the sharp awakening by an alarm clock. There was plenty they didn’t know about each other, too, but the intimate things – the raw, emotional parts – were pretty much an open book for them both now.

And there was no going back from that. 

Sean was in the living room, thinking it all over while stuffing books into his backpack, when Harvey walked in just past seven o’clock.

“Hey.”

Harvey gave him a nod, shrugged off his jacket, and headed into the kitchen. He poured a glass of scotch with one hand and loosened his tie with the other.

“Studying?” He asked, with a vague curiosity.

Sean shrugged. “Was.”

“What time do you work?”

“I don’t. I called in sick.”

“Oh.”

Seizing an opportunity to change the subject, Sean stood up and wandered a little closer. “Heard you won today.” He grinned. “Mike said you crushed it.”

“More or less.”

“You seem disappointed.”

“I was prepared to lose,” Harvey admitted quietly.

“But you didn’t.”

“No.” He shook his head, barely hiding a small smirk. “We didn’t.”

Sean continued giving him a winning smile and, feeling suddenly claustrophobic, Harvey set his drink down, undid a few buttons, and left the kitchen until the space between them shrunk down to a couple yards. He leveled their eyes, his voice low and concerned.

“How are you doing?”

Sean looked away before turning back to the remaining books he’d abandoned in a small stack on the coffee table. He crammed them into his backpack beside the rest and shrugged.

“Never better.”

“When is the funeral?” Harvey asked gently.

“Saturday. Guess I have to go buy something black, huh?”

“You want some company?”

“I was actually…I’m gonna ask Mike to come with me, so…” Sean glanced up briefly. “No offense.”

Harvey put up a hand and shook his head. “None taken. You going to his place tonight?”

Sean nodded.

“That’s uh, that’s good. You probably shouldn’t be alone.”

“Alone is a feeling, not a circumstance.”

Harvey raised his eyebrow. “Are you psychoanalyzing me now?”

“No.” Sean shrugged. “I was psychoanalyzing myself. But since you brought it up, yeah, I think you should tell Mike the truth.”

“I already did.”

“The _whole_ truth, Harvey. He’d understand.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“I did.”

“That’s because you have daddy issues,” Harvey snorted, looking away and muttering, “Obviously.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “That has nothing to do with your mother.”

“It has everything to do with my mother. And I don’t want Mike to—”

“To _what?”_   Sean advanced a little, looking frustrated. “Know that you’re just as fucked up as we are?”

Harvey shook his head and returned to the kitchen to refill his glass – this time to the top – in an effort to temper whatever it was he felt flooding his system. Sean had flipped a switch in him months ago that no one but Mike had ever even managed to find. Except he’d done it in a different way; a way Harvey still couldn’t quite figure out. All he knew for sure was that Sean brought out either the best or the worst in him – one extreme or the other – and that there rarely, if ever, seemed to be any middle ground. With the warning manifesting as an insidious heat under his skin, Harvey started to realize which of two it was becoming tonight.

After a couple hard swallows, he finally mumbled in reply. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

When Harvey didn’t say anything else, Sean knew the conversation was over. He crossed the room to stand on the opposite side of the counter and hang his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harvey said, wincing a little at the burn in his throat as he finished off the rest of the scotch in one go. In front of him, he noticed Sean was getting restless and fidgety.

He sighed. “What is it now?”

Sean shrugged. “Nothing, I just…I wanted to talk to you about something when you got home but…but now you’re mad and I—”

“I’m not mad, Sean. But whether or not I tell Mike? That’s between me and him.”

“I know.”

Harvey studied him for a few seconds. “You really never told him?”

“You asked me not to.”

“You told him everything else.”

“Well, you didn’t specifically say I couldn’t talk to my best friend about my sex life. But the other part, the part when you put your head on my shoulder and begged me never to tell anyone?” Sean paused to look Harvey in the eye. “I listened. And I didn’t.”

“I thought you and Mike didn’t have any secrets?”

“Everyone has secrets, Harvey.”

Harvey looked back gratefully and nodded. After a minute, he spoke up again, “What…what was it you wanted to talk about?”

“It’s not…nothing, it isn’t important.”

“You sure?”

“Um.” Sean hesitated, shifting on his feet. “It’s just…it’s…it’s…about school.”

“And?”

“And uh, well, I have to register for next semester by Monday. I need six classes to graduate and I…I don’t…” he exhaled sharply and looked away in shame. “I don’t have the money.”

When Harvey didn’t immediately respond, Sean panicked a little.

“Financial aid will cover some of it, but not for a few weeks and if I miss the deadline, I… Look, Harvey, I wouldn’t even ask you if there was any other way, I swear I wouldn’t—” He stumbled on his words and finally shook his head. “Nevermind, sorry. It’s not a big deal, I’ll figure it out, I’ll—”

 _“Sean.”_ Harvey stopped him firmly. “Relax. It’s already done.”

“Wh-what?”

“I paid for them two weeks ago. I thought you knew. I thought they’d send you…” he waved his hand, “…Some kind of e-mail or something.”

“Harvey…” Sean struggled to process the news. “That was like five thousand dollars.”

 “Six thousand,” Harvey corrected, and when Sean frowned in confusion, he shrugged and added, “I paid for your books.”

“Why didn’t you—”

“I didn’t _tell_ you first because I knew you’d think you owed me. And I didn’t want you to think I was asking for anything.”

“I know but…Harvey, I’m never gonna have that kind of money. That’s what I was trying to tell you. I can’t pay you back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But—”

 “Sean, you just asked for the goddamn money!” Harvey snapped. “Jesus Christ, now you’re upset that I gave it to you?”

He shook his head and grabbed the nearby bottle of scotch, less than gracefully pouring a third drink. The heat in his veins had spread, taking up space in his head and chest and even his fingers, scalding him from the inside out as the whiskey went straight to his head. His patience was evaporating.

“I’m not upset,” Sean told him. “I just…when I asked for it, I was gonna tell you I couldn’t pay you back.”

“And I said you didn’t have to.”

“Okay. Well, um…thank you. Seriously.”

Harvey downed the drink with hardly a flinch and stared back with bleary brown eyes.

“You’re getting drunk,” Sean observed, a little alarm on his face.

“That’s kind of the point, kid.”

“Because of me?”

“No,” Harvey scoffed, setting his glass down loudly on the counter. “Not because of you.”

He abandoned the scotch, wiped his mouth, and headed toward his bedroom, only to be railroaded by Sean who quickly caught up and stepped into his path.

“Then why?”

“It’s doesn’t matter.”

“Harvey…” Sean put his hand up against Harvey’s chest, effectively stopping him short. “Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Sean. I won today. I’m…celebrating.” He peeled Sean’s hand off. “Why don’t you go to Mike’s now?”

“He thinks I’m at work.”

“Fine, then don’t,” Harvey hissed. “But get out of my way.”

Sean recognized the threat in Harvey’s voice and moved to the side to let him pass.

“Did you tell him?” Sean asked, from a somewhat safer distance.

“Tell him what, Sean?” Harvey turned around slowly, sounding more tired than anything else. “That you cried your eyes out in my shower? No. Does he think we fucked this morning? Probably. Does it change a goddamn thing?” He stopped, wearily tossing up a hand. “Not really.”

The harshness in Harvey’s tone hit Sean like cold water, and he stilled, opening his mouth but not finding any words. He’d heard Harvey’s insults, heard condescension in the same vein spit at him a handful of times, but it wasn’t the norm for them. More often than not, Harvey was good to him – beyond it, really – so even those few instances, like this one, still caught him off guard, stopped him in his tracks, left him feeling leveled and not only unloved – but almost entirely unwanted.

By the time he recovered, Harvey had turned to walk away again.

“I don’t know how to do it,” Sean called out helplessly.

 “Do _what,_ Sean?”

“Leave you.”

Harvey spun back around, his expression switching from exasperation to dangerously staid in seconds. He stalked closer and cocked his head in question. “Were you _planning_ on leaving me?”

“We were never together in the first place. And if I don’t want Mike to hate me…I have to.”

“If him not hating you is contingent on whether or not you can see me? Maybe you two aren’t as good of friends as you think you are.”

“He’s my _only_ friend, Harvey,” Sean said, carefully backing up.

“Maybe you need a new one.”

“Maybe you just need to make up your fucking mind.”

Harvey reached out, just far enough to put four fingers on Sean’s chest and push until he stumbled backwards, lightly colliding with the wall.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, I did, and it’s the second ultimatum I’ve gotten today.”

“Good,” Sean snapped. “I hope Mike called you out on all your shit. I hope he—”

“Sean…” Harvey growled, stepping in close. “If I were you I’d think very carefully about what you’re about to say.”

“Why? Are you gonna hit me, too?”

 _“No._ I wouldn’t—”

“I know he forgave you for that, by the way,” Sean interrupted. “But I never will.”

The truth was ugly and Harvey had done his best to battle it down, to compartmentalize it somewhere in the back of his brain where it could just quietly eat away at him without putting all of his demons on display. But Sean had a tendency to drag them to the surface, force Harvey to face them, to analyze them, to get to the root of the problem instead of just ignoring it. It was a noble intention, really, only it almost always backfired. On them both.

So Harvey leaned in and kissed him, mostly because he wanted to, but partly because it was the only way to shut Sean up.  And Sean kissed back, reflexively, like it was second nature, an instinct; as if it wasn’t a bad idea. Mainly because it was Harvey and he didn’t know how not to.

But when reality sank in and Sean pulled away, Harvey slid his arm up, leveled his arm against Sean’s neck and pressed just enough to keep him in place.

“Harvey…”

“Shh.”

“You can’t buy me anymore,” Sean declared, narrowing his eyes and swallowing hard against Harvey’s forearm. He put his hands on Harvey’s chest, but the harder he pushed, the more pressure Harvey put on his throat.

“I don’t want to buy you.”

“You don’t get to pretend I’m someone else.”

“I don’t want to pretend you’re someone else,” Harvey told him, sounding a little offended. He put all his weight into his knee until it slotted in between Sean’s thighs.

Sean looked into his eyes with more than a little skepticism. “Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“You want Mike,” he insisted, voice broken and pained. “You don’t want me. You _never_ wanted me.”

“And yet you’re the one I have up against the wall.”

“Because I’m easy, I always do what you want, I never get to say—”

Harvey flattened his palm against Sean’s stomach and slowly slid his hand into his jeans. “I think we both know you want it just as much as me. You always did.”

“I didn’t _want_ to sleep with you back then, Harvey. I _had_ to.”

“Bullshit.”

“I was desp—”

“You weren’t that desperate. You could’ve gotten another job, worked more hours, dropped a few classes. And if you didn’t want to, why’d you sound so sweet when I fucked you? Why’d you push up into me and tell not to stop?”

“Because it’s what you wanted.”

“And what _you_ wanted? Was for me to fuck you. Remember that? Hard, fast, all of the above?”

“I told you what you wanted to hear,” Sean explained, trying to shift away from Harvey’s roaming hand. “If I had sex with you…I could…sleep in a good bed. In a room with central heating. And I could do it for more than four hours a night because I didn’t have to take the train in from Brooklyn. And you told me I was…” He paused to look away and sniffle, his eyes glassy. “You said I was _good_ , Harvey. You told me I was perfect. I’m not an idiot, I know you didn’t mean it but…no one ever said that to me before. So I pretended you did. And then, for a little while, I could feel like I wasn’t defective. I could feel like someone needed me, like someone would notice if I was gone. I could stay in school and eat and keep money on my MetroCard and…for the first time in six years I wasn’t _completely_   alone.”

Harvey pulled his hand out of Sean’s jeans and then struggled to undo them with one hand. “Then why’d you come back, every time?” he asked. “Even when you didn’t need the money, you still came over. Every time, Sean.”

“Because by then I loved you.”

 _“Don’t_ —don’t say that anymore,” Harvey sucked in sharp breath and briefly closed his eyes. “Okay? Do not say that.”

“Why?”

“You’re gonna change your mind.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Trust me, Sean—” Harvey crushed their bodies together. “I can change your mind. I did it to Mike.”

“You did this to him?”

“No. But he said he loved me. He said he loved me the whole time but he doesn’t know if he still does anymore. Because I ruined it.”

“He does.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m telling you, Harvey, he never stopped.”

“Shut up,” Harvey breathed, and Sean winced at the whisky on his breath. “Just _shut up.”_

“S-stop,” Sean whispered shakily. “I don’t like when you drink.”

He could only think of one occasion offhand, when Harvey had been drunk or close to it, after some long day or teeth-grinding client meeting. And he could still remember the bruises he’d found when he woke up, and the shame that had hit him in the shower, and that had been one morning he’d felt like shit, like a toy, like he’d sold out and it wasn’t even worth the financial relief. Looking back, he knew that on that night, he wasn’t Mike. He was just a body. In Harvey’s defense – because as much as he knew he shouldn’t, Sean always did try to rationalize it – he’d asked him to be rough. Because it had seemed like that’s what Harvey needed. And part of him had liked it, in the moment; liked the way it felt when Harvey’s hands had pinned him into that gratuitously expensive hotel bed, because it meant there was no one else Harvey was touching, or kissing, or looking at. But that instance, he believed, had been the exception to the rule. And all the times after that, right up until today, until standing with his face buried against Harvey’s chest under the soothing, hot stream of water, with a strong arm pulling their naked bodies flush – those were the times Sean found it all worth it.

“Quiet,” Harvey was saying, leaning into his arm where it still rested against Sean’s throat. He managed to get Sean’s jeans open and shoved them roughly over his hipbones.

“No, I don’t want—” Sean was coughing, struggling against the arm and trying to squirm away from the hand at his waist. _“Harvey,”_ he gasped, “I said _no.”_

Harvey grabbed both of Sean’s wrists and pinned them hard over his head. “You’re a _slut,_ Sean. You don’t _get_ to say no.”

The words rang out between them, erroneous, vicious, and tangled on the air with Sean’s startled whimper. For a minute, they both went silent. Harvey stared at Sean, who was blinking back tears and straining against the pressure on his wrists, his whole body trembling between Harvey and the wall.

Suddenly Harvey was crashing his forehead into Sean’s.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he panted. “I didn’t mean that. I’m drunk, Sean, I didn’t…I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Sean felt hot tears sliding down his face, and tried to blink them all out. He was tempted to plead for Harvey to let him go, but the realization that he might not was enough to keep Sean from wanting to find out.

Harvey kissed him again, this time a little deeper. But it was gentle, soft, insistent; the way Harvey kissed him so many other times, like he mattered, like he was important, like there was absolutely no one else on except him on Harvey’s mind. But as much as Sean wanted to let him, as much as he wanted to open his mouth and feel Harvey’s tongue and lose himself completely in the man, a sharp interruption from his conscience stopped him, forced him to seal his lips, even as Harvey nipped at them in an effort to get them to part.

“I can’t keep doing this to Mike,” Sean blurted out, anguished, when Harvey pulled back. “How can you?”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

“He’ll find out. And that’s not the _point.”_

“He finds out because you keep _telling_ him, Sean.” Harvey kissed him again and added, “Just keep your mouth shut. …But not right now. Now you can keep it open. Like that,” he licked into Sean’s mouth in between convincing words, even let go of Sean's wrists in order to frame his face. “That’s it. Good.”

Without Harvey’s arm choking him, Sean knew it would be somewhat easy to shove him off. But he didn’t. He used his newly released hands to cradle the back of Harvey’s neck, every now and then slipping his fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, and closer, until their mouths were pressed together so tight neither of them could breathe.

Sean could feel the electricity going straight to his crotch the way it always did, getting him hard, wanting Harvey to touch him. And Harvey did, pushing his hand into Sean’s jeans again, stroking him through his boxers, letting Sean push up against his hand and inadvertently whine for more.

“You’re so hard,” Harvey breathed, nuzzling Sean’s neck and rubbing his own erection against his thigh. “You feel it?’

Sean nodded wildly, sliding his hand down Harvey’s back and urging him closer, inviting him to rut against him with more fervor.

Satisfied, Harvey went back to kissing, leisurely taking Sean’s hand and guiding it down to his cock.

“Touch me,” he ordered.

Sean did, palming Harvey through his suit pants, watching him bite his lower lip with pleasure. And then Harvey was slinging one arm around Sean’s waist and trying to drag him away from the wall.

“Wait, Harvey.” Sean put on his brakes.

“Let’s go to my room,” Harvey kissing him everywhere, mouth, face, neck, shoulder. “I want you so bad.”

“I can’t…Harvey, we _can’t.”_

“Why…fuck, Sean, you think too much. Just take off your clothes, I want—”

Sean tried to resist, but Harvey kept looking at him with persuasive, commanding brown eyes and it crumbled all the resolve he ever had. With the thought that it was all so, _so_ wrong never leaving the forefront of his brain – Sean let himself be tugged into Harvey’s room, pushed down gently on the bed, straddled, stripped of his shirt and his jeans, with Harvey pressing their hardons together and kissing him so filthily he was practically licking Sean’s face.

“Harvey—” Sean pushed Harvey up a little by his shoulders. “Slow down.”

Harvey nodded, breathing heavy. He rested the side of his face on Sean’s chest. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The taste of scotch was bitter in Sean’s mouth as he ran his fingers through Harvey’s hair, already tousled and slick with sweat.

“I didn’t mean…what I said, I didn’t mean it.” Harvey rolled his head and kissed Sean’s nipple with the faintest pressure. “If you want to stop…we can stop.”

Sean took a deep breath. “I don’t want to,” he confessed. “But we have to.”

“Sean…”

“Harvey.”

But Harvey kept his head tilted to the side against Sean’s chest.

“Look at me,” Sean pleaded, guiding him up gently to face him until Harvey finally made eye contact. “I can’t be the third wheel any longer. You have to pick, Harvey, you _have_ to. Because if I do this – if we do this – I’m risking losing the only other person who ever gave a shit about me. So if you fuck me tonight, Harvey, you _have_ to love me. And you have to love me more than you love him.” Sean paused, searching Harvey’s glazed eyes for any hint of an answer before locking their gaze. “So what is it?”

For a few seconds that seemed to stretch on like they were suspended in time by hope alone, Sean thought Harvey was about to close the perilously short distance between their lips.

But instead, Harvey just touched Sean’s face affectionately, pressed a chaste kiss against his forehead, and with a frustrated groan he crashed his face into the area between Sean’s neck and shoulder, shifting their hips apart.

In an inherently soothing rhythm – and out of habit, really – Sean continued to run his fingers through Harvey’s hair and just lied there patiently, looking up at the ceiling, silently counting the beat of the heart pressed against him, and feeling the hot breaths slowing against the skin of his collarbone. Eyes watering like it was his second job, Sean swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered.

 

*


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's a couple relatively minor things I might've changed in this but since I've taken so long to update as it is, and everything pretty much turns out the same anyway, I decided to leave it be. Hopefully it passes the test! haha. Thank you all for the feedback <3
> 
> also, i accidentally posted this to the wrong fic by mistake because i am an idiot. but it is fixed now!

*

 

Harvey fell asleep minutes after his deafeningly silent answer. Partly from the stress of the day, the haze of the scotch, and an insidious, bone-deep self-loathing that was still clawing its way to the surface. But mostly, he drifted off because of the way Sean was gently stroking the back of his head, like it was  _him_  who was hurt, like it was  _him_  who needed to be consoled.

After about fifteen minutes, with Harvey still half on top of him, Sean considered trying to pry himself away, at least a few inches, so he could take a deep breath. Harvey, even with only a leg and an arm across Sean’s body, felt like steel. Trapped, but also relatively comfortable, Sean eventually closed his eyes too.

The next time he opened them, the weight on his body was gone. He felt strangely exposed and unprotected as a result, and he frowned at himself because he knew he should feel relief. Harvey was awake, he was up – in the bathroom, from the sound of water rushing into the sink – he was off of him, Sean could breathe freely, roll over, hell – he could even stand up and  _leave._

But he didn’t.

He glanced over at the clock on the side table. 10:19pm.

“I feel like I slept for two days,” he said, masking a flinch when Harvey stepped out of the bathroom rather abruptly. “But it’s been like, two hours.”

Harvey regarded him for a few seconds, then just grunted ‘uh huh’ in reply. There was a brand new kind of tension in the room, and it wasn’t the good kind, but it wasn’t necessarily the bad kind either – it was that grey area Harvey had never really found with Sean. But neither of them knew what it meant, or how to react to it.

Sean was the first to make a feeble attempt.

“I guess I should…go…”

Harvey didn’t respond until Sean was climbing off the bed. “Probably should put your clothes back on first.”

“Right.” Sean rolled his eyes, fishing around the blankets and the floor for everything that Harvey had ripped off him in a drunken carnal fury. He pulled on his shirt and then hopped around on one leg until his jeans were back on.

“Hey.” Harvey’s voice was quiet but it stopped Sean just short of the door anyway.

“Yeah?”

“You said Mike thinks you’re working until midnight, right?”

Sean nodded, narrowing his eyes curiously. Harvey was sitting on the edge of the bed, and if it weren’t for him craning his neck over his shoulder, only his back would be visible.

“Yeah. So?”

“So stay. Stay ‘til midnight.”

“Harvey…” Sean sighed in exasperation. “I’m…done. I’m done lying to him.”

“I’m not asking you to  _lie_  to him, Sean. I’m just…asking you to… _not_  tell him that you already did.”

There was something about how Harvey kept glancing away, eyes fleetingly finding other things to focus on besides Sean. It was shame, pure and simple, clear as day, and most business majors wouldn’t even know what the hell that looked like – especially not on a lawyer – but Sean knew Harvey, and he recognized it immediately.

Against his better judgment – and he was beginning to question whether he had any at all – Sean took a few steps back toward the bed, nerves already frayed and his heart beating a little harder at the prospect.

“What am I staying for Harvey? So you can try to fuck me again? And again and again until I give in?”

 _“No_.” Harvey replied, voice strained and little muffled from the way he was cradling his head, raking his fingernails over his face in a way that was less about waking up and more about masochism.

“Then what, Harvey? Tell me why I should stay here after what you did?”

“Sean…”

Sean wanted to keep up his armor; the façade that made it look like he was capable of putting his foot down and keeping it there. But Harvey was the only rock in a really rough stream that Sean had ever been able to hold onto. And it was a rock that cut and bruised him, but also kept his head above water; kept him from sinking, from drowning under the weight of all his problems and responsibility. So when he looked back at Harvey, all of his walls came down again. He crawled back onto the bed, slid up behind Harvey on his knees, and wrapped one arm around his neck, one around his chest.

Sean cautiously rested his chin on Harvey’s shoulder like it was a move that might backfire. When it didn’t, he breathed out gently in relief.

 Harvey closed his eyes at Sean’s presence, and then winced.

“Headache?”

“No,” Harvey lied, through the residual taste of scotch and Sean on his tongue.

“If you say so.”

“I fucked up,” he admitted, in a suddenly very different tone. It was raw and emotional and almost like he was breaking the news to himself for the first time, as if everything had suddenly clicked. He leaned forward more and clawed at his face again, shaking his head wildly.  _“Oh my god,”_  he gasped, sounding nearly as shell-shocked as Sean felt somewhere inside.  _“Oh my god.”_

“Harvey, it’s okay.” It wasn’t, and Sean’s stomach tensed when he squeezed Harvey’s chest a little tighter, but he said it again anyway. “It’s okay.”

Harvey started to rock back and forth, trance-like, chanting quiet  _Oh my god_ s and staring at the floor or at nothing at all, eyes glazed over and empty.

“I can’t take it back,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I’m…okay,” Sean told him, trying to sound resolute. “It’s fine, it’s…not a big a deal.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so—” Harvey sat up straight on a sharp inhale. “I  _hit_  him. Jesus Christ, I  _hit Mike._  And I hurt you,  _holy shit_  I—”

Sean slid his chin off Harvey’s shoulder and buried his face there instead. “Stop,” he pleaded, cutting off the endless stream of confessions.

Harvey sniffled once, wiped his eyes with one swift motion, like he was erasing any evidence that he’d come that close to crying over his own sins.

“I need some air,” he announced, standing up. Sean didn’t have time to anticipate the sudden movement. He let go of Harvey, scrambled backwards on the bed until he slid off and hurriedly got to his feet on the opposite side, startle response in overdrive and not lost on Harvey, who stared back, eyes wide.

“What?” Sean asked, squirming under the stare.

Harvey shook his head slowly. “Nothing,” he said, taking a few steps around his side of the bed and toward the door. In his peripheral vision, he could see Sean trying and failing to mask a full body flinch, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Sean—”

“I thought you were going outside to get some air,” Sean muttered, hardly a question. He glanced at Harvey and then looked down at the floor.

“I was.” Harvey took a step in his direction. “And then you jumped three feet in the air.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“You scared me.”

“I  _stood up.”_

Sean raised his head and leveled their eyes. “I  _know,”_  he deadpanned, tone cold.

Harvey closed the space between them by a few more feet, frowning in concern as Sean all but back up into the nightstand. “What does that mean?”

“Harvey, you just said that you—”

“You’re afraid.” Harvey halted at the realization. “You’re—I knew it— _fuck.”_

“I’m not.” Sean shook his head. “I’m not, I just…I just thought you were going to the balcony and I—”

“Come here.”

“What?”

“Come  _here,”_ Harvey insisted. “Sean, I’m not gonna—” He reached out, just barely grazing trembling fingers before Sean was jerking his hand back and hiding it behind himself.

“Don’t  _touch me!”_  he shrieked, body bladed like he was in fight or flight mode and the only available option was the former. Except Harvey was taller, and stronger, and it was a fight Sean already knew from experience he couldn’t win. He looked around for an escape, his stomach churning when Harvey reached for him again, this time capturing his wrist securely.

 _“Stop,”_  Harvey was telling him, but Sean was frantic, tugging, shifting, tripping over the table and finding himself trapped between the wall and Harvey for the second time that night. His heart was beating double time, blood rushing in his ears and practically drowning out the low, gentle voice coming from in front of him.

“Stop, it’s okay.” Harvey loosened his grip, trailed his hand up Sean’s arm and rested it lightly on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Sean nodded quickly, hoping Harvey would get tired of apologizing and go outside.

But he didn’t, not yet, instead he used his free hand to place two fingers on the side of Sean’s face. It was hardly a touch, feather light even, but Sean squeezed his eyes shut anyway and turned his head.

“Sean, I’m sorry,” Harvey repeated. “You have to know that.”

“Yeah,” Sean said, opening watery eyes. “I know. You told me.”

“What can I do?” Harvey asked sincerely, looking around in despair. “I don’t…know what to do, Sean. I don’t know how to fix this and I…” he clenched his fist in frustration. “I  _always_  know how to  _fix_   _things.”_

“Just let me go home,” Sean reasoned, taking a bold step forward and to the left.

Harvey blocked his path. “No. You’re gonna tell and I _can’t_ —”

“Who the  _fuck_  am I gonna tell, Harvey?!” Sean shouted, causing them both to cringe. He put his hands on Harvey’s chest and shoved him with everything he had until Harvey actually stumbled backwards, struggling briefly to catch his balance as Sean continued choking on words and trying to hold back a wall of tears.

“My dead brother?! My…long list of friends?! My really supportive parents who call me all the time to ask if the guy I was screwing for money tried to—”

 _“What,_  Sean?” Harvey interrupted challengingly. “Tried to what?”

Sean looked back, hurt, furious, but didn’t finish the sentence, instead repeating, “Who the  _fuck_  am I gonna tell, Harvey?!” He paused, tossing up his hands, voice falling soft and helpless. “Who?”

Harvey stared, looking and feeling nauseous, like he might throw up on his own floor if he didn’t keep making the conscious effort to swallow the bile creeping into his throat. There wasn’t any fight left in Sean; his eyes looked dead, expression resigned, the same one he’d seen on Mike so many times, and it was making him sick – but for all the wrong reasons.

“You’re gonna tell Mike,” he said thickly.

Sean scoffed in disbelief. _“Seriously?”_

“If you tell him, he’ll never talk to me again and I—”

“What? You love him? You pick  _him?_  I know. I know, okay, I fucking  _know.”_

_“Sean—”_

“It’s okay, Harvey. It’s not breaking news. I was always a stand-in.” Sean shrugged. “You said it yourself, right? I’m a slut. I don’t get to say no.”

“Hey,  _that’s_ not true,” Harvey told him, putting a hand back on his shoulder. This time Sean tensed but didn’t pull away. “I don’t know what else to say, Sean. I don’t want you to hate me for—”

“I don’t hate you, Harvey. That’s the whole problem. I  _can’t_  hate you. No matter what you do to me, or Mike, or anyone else I can’t  _fucking_   _hate_  you! I don’t even know how to be pissed at you for more than fifteen minutes! Because I get it, I  _get_  why you’re like this—”

 _“Like_  this?”

“Yeah, it’s undergrad psychology, Harvey. I got an A.” Sean motioned with his hands, “Cycle of violence: someone hurt you. So you hurt yourself. And now…you hurt everyone else.”

Harvey was silent for a long time, leaving Sean to eventually speak up.

“Tell him,” he said, emotion returning to his face. “Tell Mike what happened to you.”

“I  _can’t_ , Sean.”

“You told  _me_  a week and a half after we met. You can tell him.”

“It was easier to tell—”

“Easier to tell a whore?”

“God _damn_  it, Sean, will you  _stop?”_  Harvey wiped his mouth out of frustration. “Stop calling yourself a whore, a slut, a—”

“What? Stop calling myself all the things  _you_  call me?”

“I don’t do that. Not all the time.”

“No, no,” Sean laughed bitterly. “Only when I stand up for myself, or for Mike, or when you’re drunk, or you regret me, or—”

“I don’t regret you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I was gonna say, it was easier to tell you because...I didn’t know you that well yet. So it didn’t matter what you thought of me. And I didn’t exactly have choice. But if we hadn’t slept together, I wouldn’t have told you. And if I hadn’t told you then, I couldn’t tell you now.” Harvey moved a little closer again, this time slowly, taking his hand off Sean’s shoulder to lightly trace his jaw. “That’s how it is with Mike. I know him too well now. I don’t want him to think I’m—”

“Human?”

Harvey didn’t reply this time, just waited for Sean to duck away or lean into his touch. Instead, almost in slow motion, Sean reached up and gently guided Harvey’s hand away from his face.

“You picked Mike, Harvey,” he reminded him. “Don’t.”

There was a transitory silence and then Sean cautiously started to step aside.

“Can I please go now?”

With a heavy breath, Harvey nodded, staring over Sean’s shoulder at the wall. Sean moved past him, almost making it out of the bedroom before stopping to linger in the doorway.

“I won’t tell him,” Sean called.

Harvey turned around, but kept his head hung, hands stuffed in his pockets. “About me or about tonight?”

“About anything.”

 

*  
Sean took the train to Brooklyn like any other night, but got off a stop early and walked, taking deep breaths of fresh air. He didn’t go straight to Mike’s. Instead he went home, stood in a scalding shower for thirty minutes until he felt the day melting away, flooding into a pool at his feet and then down the drain, leaving him feeling feverish but almost –  _almost –_  clean.

He put on fresh clothes, locked his door, and was knocking on Mike’s by one o’clock.

Mike greeted him with a distracted “Hey,” muffled by a mouthful of cereal, as he closed the door and wandered to the kitchen. “You okay? How was work?”

“Fine, I, uh…” Sean ran his hand through his hair in hesitation. “Actually, I didn’t really go to work. Or school.”

“Oh.” Mike emptied his bowl into the sink and turned around, sensing that Sean had more to say.

“I skipped class and called in sick,” Sean admitted, still lingering by the door, as far away from Mike’s sight as he could manage in the small apartment. “I was...depressed…about, you know—”

“I know,” Mike told him.

“I just…I couldn’t even get out of bed. So I just stayed there most of the day.”

“At Harvey’s.”

“Yeah.” Sean nodded once. “We didn’t…we didn’t do anything, Mike.”

“I know,” Mike repeated, looking down. “So he told me.”

“I mean…we…okay. I got in his shower but nothing—”

Mike’s head snapped up, eyebrow raised slightly, though less surprised and more curious. It was an interesting fact Harvey had conveniently omitted.

“Nothing happened,” Sean continued. “I was a mess, Mike, I just stood there and cried, I was so… _pathetic._  I felt like I was having a breakdown and he was—he was there. And it’s like, one of you is always there for me and I feel like I can’t turn it down because what if I wake up and you’re both gone? Or dead like my brother? I keep fucking up and I feel like I’m hanging onto you by a thread.”

“I’m here, Sean,” Mike told him, though his voice was tired. “I haven’t left.”

“So we’re good then?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I trust you with him,” Mike explained, looking across the room. “But I don’t trust him with you.”

“That’s…” Sean scrunched up his face in confusion. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Scoffing, Mike walked to the couch and sat down. “You think I believe you got into the shower with him and he didn’t convince you to have sex?”

“I told you. Nothing happened in the shower.”

“No? Where  _did_  it happen? The floor? The bed? The kitchen?” Mike shook his head and laughed. “I know he likes the counter, right?”

“Do not be jealous of me, Mike,” Sean replied, his tone deadly serious. “You don’t want to be in my shoes right now. I promise you don’t.”

Mike glanced up. He hadn’t seen the way Sean had flinched at the accusations, but he’d heard the way his voice cracked.

“What?”

Sean didn’t say anything for few seconds. “He picked you, Mike,” he finally sighed.

“What are you talking about?”

“I told him he had to decide, and he picked you.”

“What…” Mike frowned, leaning forward, hands fidgeting in his lap at the idea. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. I said he had to decide, and if it was me, then he had to love me. And he had to love me more than he loved you. And he didn’t say anything, because he doesn’t.”

“That’s not an answer.” Mike rolled his eyes and scanned the coffee table until he found the remote, glancing up to add, “You can sit down, Sean.”

“I’m good,” Sean said, shifting in place by the door. “Maybe I shouldn’t stay.”

“Why?”

“You’re pissed at me, Mike.”

“I’m annoyed about last night.”

“What’s the difference?”

Mike huffed. “I’m jealous, okay? You know it, I know it, he knows it,” he stopped and put up his hands in surrender and humility. “But that’s  _my_  problem. We’re still friends, Sean. We have to be. I don’t exactly have anyone else.”

“Yeah…” Sean agreed. “Me either.” He swallowed hard, summoning whatever courage he could find to tell Mike the truth, but it was a slow, painstaking process.

“So come on,” Mike smiled and nodded at the empty seat next to him. “Netflix before we crash.”

Sean inched a little closer but then stopped, a nervous hand raking through his hair again, over and over.

“You’re my best friend—”

“Yeah, come on, don’t get too sentimental, it’s late.”

“And that’s why I have to tell you something.”

Mike balked at the anxiety he could feel even from several feet away. “It was the kitchen,” he breathed, trying to lighten the mood and ignore a dull ache inside at the same time. “I knew it.”

“No, Mike, Jesus Christ!” Sean covered his face briefly and then started pacing. “It wasn’t…no. No, no, no—”

Alarmed, Mike stood up and dropped the remote. “Sean, what the hell?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell you but I—I have to because…you’re my best friend and if anything ever… _fuck_. I’m so fucking stupid. I was so stupid.”

“No…what? Sean, you’re  _not_  stupid—”

“I am, though,” Sean stopped pacing, but continued to shift back and forth on his feet. “I knew he had a bad day. I mean, I know you won in court but I guess something else happened because—”

Mike bit his lip, an onslaught of vivid memories from the morning interrupted when Sean continued in a stream of rushed and frantic run-on sentences.

“—Because he was throwing back scotch after scotch and I still...” He shook his head in frustration. “I  _still_ asked him about school. I asked him for money, for my classes, and he said he already paid for them and I just…I panicked because I can’t pay him back six grand probably  _ever_  and I thought he might think…that I’d sleep with him and I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to do that to you. Not again.”

Sean took a deep breath, but it wasn’t long enough for Mike to get a word in. “He said I didn’t owe him anything, but I was still freaking out about it, about a loan like that, so I pushed. And then he walked away, told me to leave, and I asked what was wrong and he told me to get out of his way and I didn’t, I …fuck, Mike, I just pushed and pushed until he snapped, I don’t know why—” he paused again to gasp for air, eyes welling up, words crackling from nerves and exhaustion. “I don’t know why I didn’t just leave. I guess…I didn’t want you to know I was there all day. I’m always afraid you still hate me for what I did, that day we went to the hotel, or the day after that, or—”

Mike narrowed his eyes in confusion, walking forward. “Sean,” he said, voice gentle but persuasive, concern quickly escalating at Sean’s near-hysteria. “What are you talking about? What did he do?”

Sean averted his eyes, tearful, and shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t want to tell you but I…Mike, I can’t not tell you because if…if you decide…to be with him…”

“Jesus, Sean, what the hell happened?” Mike reached out and ran two fingers along Sean’s bruised throat. “Did Harvey  _do_  this?” he asked incredulously.

Reluctant, Sean swallowed hard before nodding his head. “I told him he had to pick, you or me, that I’d leave if he didn’t—”

“I told him the same thing…”

“That’s what he said, that he was sick of ultimatums, and I don’t…I don’t remember what else, but he started kissing me and I…I did kiss him back, but I stopped, I swear. But he wouldn’t. He put…he put his hand in my pants and I—I was trying to move, but he had me…he had me against the wall and then he put his arm on my neck, like this—” Sean put his forearm up to this throat to demonstrate, careful not to put any actual pressure on it, and dropped it, fists clenching. He hiccupped, looking from the Mike to the floor helplessly. “I couldn’t breathe,” he continued. “I kept telling him, trying to say stop. I said no and—and—”

“What?” Mike asked urgently. “Sean, what? Tell me.”

“He said…” Sean swallowed a sob, as if Harvey’s words had traumatized him more than his actions. “That I was a slut. That I’m not allowed to say no.”

Mike opened his mouth, eyes wide in shock. “Sean, did he...did he…” but he couldn’t quite bring himself to finish.

Sean shook his head and sniffled. “No. I mean, he just…kept… _touching_  me and…stuff…and then he…he said sorry. We went to his room and I…I let him kiss me and I kissed him back. That’s when I said he had to decide, and he did. And he picked you. I’m not saying this because I’m trying to stay with him. And I know…Mike, I know it’s so fucked up. I didn’t want to do it… _Fuck...”_ Sean whimpered, wiped his eyes and searched the room some place to hide his face. “I should’ve just left,” he mumbled, more to himself than Mike; a brutal chant of self-blame. “You could’ve left. You could’ve just left, you’re so fucking stupid, you could’ve  _left—”_

“Sean!” Mike moved in close and shouted, snapping Sean out of his daze.

He looked up and blinked. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I just—I’m telling the truth, Mike. I swear.”

“I believe you. Sean, I believe you, okay?”

“Okay, yeah, I…” Sean swayed, feeling suddenly lightheaded. “I think…I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“No, no you’re not,” Mike grabbed his shoulders and helped him stagger to the bed. “Lie down.”

Sean hit the bed a little harder than he meant to, groaning and dragging himself up so he could plant his face on a pillow. Behind him, he heard the gentle padding of Mike’s feet, and when he rolled over, there was a water bottle in his face.

“Drink this,” Mike instructed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Sean twisted off the cap and took a long swallow, looking back gratefully. They were silent for a few minutes, with Sean slowly recovering and Mike with a death grip on the side of the mattress.

“We could kill him, you know,” Mike suggested, tone playfully serious, trying his hardest to make Sean feel better, if only for the moment. “Cut him up. Throw him in the East River.”

Sean grinned, sputtering and choking on his water. “It’d never work,” he said dismissively, waving a hand. “Donna would have the National Guard out looking for him.”

“Are you kidding me? If she knew, she’d help us dump the body.”

“We could hire a hit man.”

“We couldn’t afford one.”

“We could trick him into paying for his own.”

Mike smirked, “You mean like, tell him we need money for something else and then bam! We go  _Diamonds Are Forever_ on his ass?”

“Well." Sean shrugged. "He does think he’s James Bond.”

“Right?”

There was more laughter, and the tension seemed to fizzle out a bit. After it died down, though, Sean’s expression went wistful and a little distant.

“Hey, uh,” he sat up a little bit and picked at the label on the water bottle. “Do you think people do things because…because of things that happened to them? I mean…” he stopped and shook his head, searching for the right words. “That they act the way they do because of whatever shit they went through?”

“You mean like that nature versus nurture crap?”

“I guess so.”

“I don’t know.” Mike squinted. “Why?”

“Well, I was just thinking…we’re both pretty screwed up—”

“Are you just now figuring that out, Sean?”

“—And it’s mostly ‘cause of our parents. Not being there. So we…we do things, to deal with it. Like…”

“Drugs?”

“Yeah, and—”

“Prostitution?”

Sean conceded with a forced nod. “But maybe some people – maybe they stop hurting themselves, start lashing out at other people instead. And maybe it’s not because their parents were gone. Maybe it’s ‘cause…because they were around  _too_  much, you know?”

Curious, Mike studied him. Eventually, and almost rhetorically, he asked, “Is this about Harvey?”

Sean sighed. “Listen, Mike, I don’t…I don’t want to be the reason you don’t give him a chance. I’m telling you – he picked you. He didn’t say it, but…he said it. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to hate him, because of this. Because of me.”

“Then why did you tell me, Sean?” Mike stared back expectantly. “Why would you tell me that and then turn around and tell me how to feel about it?”

“That’s not—I’m not trying to do that. I told you because I don’t want you to get hurt, not anymore than you already are. But I don’t want you to resent me either.”

“Resent you for what? Sean, none of what happened tonight was your fault. You know that, right?”

Sean looked away. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“All that hypothetical shit about our parents, what’d you mean by that?” Mike swiveled a little, sliding one leg up onto the bed. “What happened to him?”

When Sean didn’t answer, Mike pushed.  _“Sean.”_

“Look, it’s not my place to tell you, okay? And I’m not saying it’s a...an excuse or anything but maybe…maybe there’s, I don’t know, a reason. And maybe if you knew…maybe it would change things. Maybe you’d realize why—”

“Why he hates himself?” Mike interjected. “Because I know about that. And after tonight, I really don’t give a shit if he does.”

“Not just that, Mike.”

“Then what, Sean? What? His mom cheated on his dad? Is that the worst thing that ever happened to him? Because I know it messed him up, but come on. We’ve been through worse. And we don’t do…we don’t do what he does.”

Sean took a deep breath. “Like I said, it’s not my place to tell you. I know…I know we tell each other everything but I…I promised him—”

“You’d keep it from me?”

“No, of course not. I made a promise that I’d let him tell you himself.”

“And you can’t break it why?”

“Would you?”

Mike considered it for a few seconds and then sighed. “No,” he confessed.

Sean gave him a weak smile, and they sat in comfortable silence until Mike spoke up again.

“You tired?”

“Beyond.”

“Me too. I gotta get up in like five hours.” Mike glanced at his watch and stood up. “I’m taking a shower. If you don’t wanna go to class tomorrow, you can chill here.”

“I…probably shouldn’t miss another day.”

“I think you’d be okay, Sean, it’s only two days. Have you even missed one before all this?”

“No, but—”

“It’s the money, isn’t it?” Mike laughed, a little caustic, though less at Sean and more at Harvey’s bizarrely self-serving philanthropy. “You don’t want him to know you’re skipping after he dropped six more grand in tuition on you.”

“It’s not that, Mike. I mean, yeah, that’s part of it. But mostly I just…” Sean pointed a finger at his own head. “I think if I stay busy, it’ll help, you know? Today it was all I could think about. The phone call. The funeral. Because I just lied there looking at a ceiling,  _thinking_  about it. I gotta go to class, Mike. I gotta just pretend everything’s…normal for a little while.”

Mike looked down, sympathetic. “I get it,” he said gently, and then motioned toward the bed. “Make room for me, okay?”

Nodding, Sean slid over and collapsed back into a pillow. It smelled like Mike and whatever cheap-yet-consistent cologne he used, but it was comforting. It was safe and familiar, with no expectations looming above, and Sean could exhale.

He was sound asleep by the time Mike emerged from the shower. At least, it appeared to be sound; peaceful, and Mike could only hope that was the case and that there were no nightmares lurking behind Sean’s closed eyes. It had been a rough couple of days.

With a heavy breath of exhaustion, he lied down beside him and looked up at the ceiling, trying to absorb the night, the news – the entire fucked up situation as it had been presented. Everything since he’d found out about Harvey and Sean flashed through his head: The bar, the hotel, the arguments, the day Harvey had hit him, the night Harvey had kissed him, and all the things Sean had revealed tonight. It felt much, much longer, but it all had happened in hardly three months time.

Mike blinked in disbelief.  _“Holy shit,”_   he whispered.

 

*

 

**Wednesday,  Day 88**

 

Fueled by adrenaline, a serious lack of sleep, and quiet but dangerously repressed anger, Mike marched swiftly past Donna and into Harvey’s office the next morning. He found the man standing behind his desk, opening his computer.

“I'll be working with Reeves from now on,” Mike announced. “I can’t even look at you.”

Harvey didn’t look especially surprised by Mike’s sudden and slightly brazen appearance, almost as though he’d been expecting it. He nodded slowly but didn’t look up. “He told you.”

“Of course he fucking told me, Harvey!” Mike shouted. He could feel the hinges coming off. “What, was he supposed to bottle it up inside for fifteen years until he turned into you?’

Eyes steely and a little wounded, Harvey lifted his head. “That’s not what happened to me.”

Mike stared back, incredulous, a little disgusted. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Well when you decide to tell me what did, I’ll be on the 43rd floor.”

He turned to leave, stopping reluctantly at the sound of his name.

“Mike,” was all Harvey said, and Mike turned around.

 _“What?”_  he asked, exasperated, and even somewhat fearless for the first time. If he was truly working for another partner, there wasn’t a whole lot Harvey could do to punish him. It crossed his mind that the only thing left to lose was the man himself, and he secretly panicked a little at the possibility. But that empty feeling inside him was nearly full now with anger and jealousy and pain, and it left little room for him to wonder whether Harvey officially wanted him or not.

“I’m not gonna be here for a few days,” Harvey said softly. “Reeves is a good partner. You’ll learn a lot.”

His words were genuine, far from sarcastic for a refreshing change, and his face was solemn. Mike got a strange feeling and took a few steps back into the office.

“What? Where are you going?” he asked, quickly backtracking to add, “Nevermind, I don’t care.”

But he stood and waited for an answer anyway, cursing himself and his inability to care less.

Harvey shrugged. “Nowhere,” he responded, miserably playing off a more specific answer.

“Harvey, you’re in the middle of the biggest merger we’ve had all year!” Mike exclaimed, looking around in confusion. “Who’s gonna close it?”

“Louis.”

“Louis?” Mike laughed dryly. “You’re gonna let  _Louis_  take all the credit for  _our_  work?”

“As long as it gets done. I’m not too concerned with who gets credit for it.”

“Since when?”

“It’s not your case anymore, Mike. You’re with Reeves now, remember?”

“Harvey, you  _told_  me to work with someone else!”

“I didn’t think you actually would,” Harvey mumbled, more to himself, as he finally sat down.

“Well, I didn’t want to until I talked to Sean. Now I kinda wish Reeves worked in, I don’t know, another  _state?”_

Harvey winced, let out a soft breath and motioned toward the door. “Just go, Mike.”

“No.” Mike held his ground. “Tell me why you’re leaving.”

“I’m not leaving, Mike. I’m just taking a few days off.”

“You never take a few days off.”

“Hence why I’m doing it now.”

Mike eyed him suspiciously. “Where are you going?”

“I told you. Nowhere. Just home.”

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

 _“Damn it, Mike,_  I said just go—”

“No, I’m not White Fang, Harvey! You can’t just throw a few rocks at me and expect me to run off. I don’t walk out when things go to shit. I don’t know how to. Walking out, that’s…that’s what  _you_  do.”

“Mike—”

“What happened to the whole, ‘I’m trying to be honest’ speech? Was that just a one-day thing? Why do I always have to pry the truth out of you? I swear, just  _one time,_ tell me the—”

“I’m suspended. Alright?”

 “You’re…what?” Mike gaped. “You can’t…you can’t get  _suspended.”_

“I can and I did.” Harvey held up a piece of paper. “Someone saw what happened with us last week,” he explained. “Went to Jessica. I may be the teacher’s pet but even she wouldn’t let something like that slide. And I wouldn’t want her to.”

“Please.” Mike rolled his eyes. “Like Jessica gives a shit about me.”

“Whether you believe she does or not,” Harvey shrugged. “It’s irrelevant.”

Mike struggled to absorb the news; trying to imagine Jessica coming down so hard on Harvey, knowing that depriving a workaholic like him the chance of winning for any period of time was about the roughest punishment there was. It seemed far more likely for her to have tried to sweep the incident under the rug, if she’d even known of it in the first place.

With more than a little skepticism in his eyes, Mike looked up. “I’ll talk to her,” he started, knowing he should want Harvey to suffer a little, but not finding a part of him that was quite willing to let that happen. “I’ll tell her…I’ll tell her I’m fine—” he cringed a little at the lie.

“No,” Harvey quickly interrupted. “Don’t do that.”

“But I started it, Harvey.  I—I screamed at you, I said…things I shouldn’t have said. I was unprofessional. You just reacted and I…you shouldn’t be suspended for that.”

“It’s done, Mike. Just let it go.”

There was something weary in Harvey’s face that finally made Mike give up. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of actually confronting Jessica anyway, so he eventually tossed up his hands in defeat.

“Fine,” he said, and when Harvey didn’t acknowledge him, he shook his head and backed out of the office.

 

*

  
Harvey was sitting in his office around seven o’clock, jaw resting his hand, elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, when Donna walked in. The visible tension in his shoulders was more than enough to tell her he was brooding. The way he didn’t respond immediately to her presence told her he was also drinking.

The glass of half-gone scotch on his desk confirmed it.

“So,” she said, intentionally loud enough to crackle through the silence. “Does this mean I’m off for four days too?”

For almost a solid minute, Harvey didn’t answer. Finally he swiveled slowly in his chair to face her.

“It’s not a vacation, Donna.”

“Oh, I know.” She held up one finger and strolled further inside. “But while you’re going stir crazy in your three thousand square foot condo thinking of all the ways Louis could be losing your case, I’m taking your credit card to Saks.”  She paused with an dramatic frown. “I can’t decide between Marni or Prada. I’m thinking Marni because really, you can’t go wrong, but on the other hand Prada is—”

“Okay.” Harvey put up his hand and almost,  _almost_ smiled. “I get it.”

Donna sighed, her features falling. “What are you doing, Harvey?”

“I don’t know. I’m working on it.”

“What’s his name?”

“What?”

“His  _name,”_ she repeated, dragging a chair in front of his desk and taking a seat. “Mike’s friend. The kid you’re—”

“Sean.” Harvey answered, between clenching his jaw and resisting the urge to pour more scotch. It tasted especially bitter tonight – a nauseating reminder of the night before – and though he craved more, a larger part of him wanted to heave the bottle out the window.

After a few seconds, his face contorted in confusion. “You never—you never told me how you know. And don’t give me that bullshit about how it doesn’t matter.”

Donna opened her mouth, closed it, and finally caved. “Norma. Overheard Mike talking on the phone. I got the rest out of him when I asked what happened to his face.” She stopped and motioned across the desk. “He’d rather give me the sordid details than think I might make your job a little harder because I’m pissed at you.”

Harvey closed his eyes tight.

“That boy would bleed to death in your lap and apologize for staining your suit,” she continued. “Would you do the same thing?”

“Of course I would,” Harvey replied, looking a little affronted.

“Then what’s the problem?” Donna asked gently.

Harvey turned his head back toward the windows, looking at the blur of lights but not really seeing them. He knew Donna’s patience was probably wearing thin, but she still waited quietly, not pushing too hard, just there; carefully tugging the truth from him one wordless, passing minute at a time.

“I love them both.”

No sooner were the words out than his chest was constricting, hands going sweaty from the pressure. It was so easy to stand up in front of a judge or jury and give a compelling argument, but this –  _this_  was hard. This was like pulling teeth, except it was his own teeth, and it hurt like hell, every tooth was a word, each one bleeding profusely the instant he spoke them. It was too honest, too forthcoming. Even in front of Donna, of all people, he felt painfully exposed.

Finally, after what was only several seconds but felt like an agonizing eternity, Donna’s voice cut through Harvey’s thoughts.

“That’s quite the declaration for a man who’s never been able to admit he even loves one person.”

“What can I say,” He shrugged stiffly. “I’m growing.”

“Who do you love more?”

Harvey turned back sharply to face her, his body and expression suddenly alight with emotion, making him feel trapped and hot, like he was scalding himself with his own flame. He stood up and all but ripped off his jacket, tossing it carelessly onto his chair before pacing.

“What kind of goddamn question is that?!” he barked, raking his hand over his face. “Who would I pull from a burning building first? Jesus, Donna!  _I don’t know!”_

“Okay. That hit a nerve.”

“You’re damn right it did.”

Donna leaned forward and tapped the glass on Harvey’s desk. “More scotch?” she asked, though it was more to make a point than it was an actual offer. Harvey caught it, took a deep breath and shook his head.

“No thanks,” he said, words rough but quieter.

“Who are you  _in_  love with?”

Harvey looked down at her from a few yards away and saw the trace of disappointment on her face. It stung, because she always gave him more than enough slack, and he knew if she was looking at him that way, then he’d used up the rope.

He wandered back to his chair after she motioned toward it, sat down and clasped his hands in front of his face.

“I heard you talking to Mike,” Donna told him, once they were back at eye level and it seemed Harvey was intent on evading the earlier question. “You think he bought all that Jessica crap?”

“No.”

“And you really think punishing yourself is going to help?”

“I deserve it,” Harvey replied firmly. Donna didn’t debate it, and after a few moments of tense silence, she sighed.

“Are you going to fix this, Harvey?”

Voice strained and a little forced, like the idea of what he was about to say was too daunting, he gave a single nod. “I’m gonna try.”

Looking satisfied – because where Harvey was concerned, this was progress – Donna smoothed her skirt and stood up.

“So do I get a four day weekend or what?”

At that, Harvey laughed, just a little. “Fine.” He shooed her away with his hand.

“I wasn’t kidding about your credit card, you know.”

“I’d be disappointed if you were.”

She smiled over her shoulder, almost making it out the door before his voice cut in again.

“Why did you ask me his name?”

She turned around. “What?”

“If you talked to Mike,” Harvey was gesturing with one hand. “You already knew Sean’s name.”

Donna hesitated, rocking on one heel before giving an impassive shrug. “Yeah, I did.”  And when Harvey looked back impatiently, she added, “I just wanted to see your face when you said it.”

 

*

  
**Friday, Day 90**

 

Harvey wasn't in a suit, but he still looked vastly out of place standing in the hallway with an expensive shoe directly over a tear in decade-old carpet; a metaphor for the poor and privileged.

He looked expectantly at the body blocking the entrance and asked, “Can I come in?"

“Not my apartment,” Mike responded, stepping to the side and then quickly returning to where he’d been beside the couch, leisurely stuffing clothes into a small suitcase without any real organization. “What are you doing here?”

“Dropping off the car,” Harvey replied.

“Right. I forgot.” Mike scoffed but didn’t look up. “You’re funding this.”

Harvey frowned but then smiled faintly, because sometimes Mike’s petulance was so spiteful it bored on amusing. “You’re going to a funeral. I didn’t want to make you take three trains to get there.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to  _make_  us do anything.”

Harvey stiffened. “You wanna take three trains to get there, Mike?”

Mike was quiet for a minute before finally shaking his head and murmuring, “No.”

“So take the key then.” Harvey outstretched his hand, a single key on a ring and a shiny black piece of plastic Mike quickly recognized as a Visa card.

“I would, but—” Mike stood up straight and shrugged, not making much of an effort to tone down the sarcasm in his voice. “I don’t think I’m old enough.”

They’d gone more almost two full business days without seeing each other, a definite record as far as work was concerned, but Harvey could still see the anger in Mike’s eyes, still fresh and burning white-hot. He sighed and extended his hand again, this time a little more impatiently.

“Just take it, Mike, and I’ll leave.”

Frustrated, Mike threw down the pair of jeans he was holding. “Give it to Sean, Harvey! I don’t want it, okay?”

“Fine.” Harvey gritted his teeth. “Where is he?”

“Shower,” Mike snapped.

It was three more painstaking minutes of awkward silence, in which Mike continued to huffily pack while Harvey put his hands in his pockets and paced. Finally there was a cough, the click of a door, and Sean appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, towel around his waist, glancing between the two of them.

“Hey,” they both said in unison, which earned Harvey an annoyed look from Mike.

Sean frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Harvey came to give us blood money."

Ignoring him, Harvey crossed the room in just a couple of strides. The apartment wasn’t much bigger than Mike’s, and the building was probably older.  

For several minutes, Mike tuned out their conversation, instead tugging the suitcase over to the door and then looking around for anything else Sean hadn’t had time to pack after class. Not finding anything, he decided to grab his own bag from the floor, hoist it onto the couch, and check to see if he’d forgotten something. And also as a means of distracting himself, though the longer Harvey and Sean talked, the harder that was to do.

“I expect a phone call by midnight,” Harvey was saying. “Or I send out the bloodhounds.” He handed Sean the key and credit card. “Tank’s full. It goes back to the Atlantic location on Monday night. Hotel is booked under your name. I put the address in the car.”

Mike watched, clenching his jaw and shaking his head at the way Harvey’s gaze landed on every droplet of water skating down Sean’s chest and followed each one down, over the slight indentation of his abs, until they disappeared into the towel at his hips.

Part of Mike wanted to ask him to put some clothes on, more of him wanted to tell Harvey to stop being so creepy – and obvious – but what he wanted to do most was say the thing currently fighting to get off his tongue.  _How many times did you have to fuck him for all of this?_

Knowing that it would hurt Sean far worse than it would hurt Harvey – and because Mike knew they’d be screwed without the money – he swallowed down the words and kept his mouth shut.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you?”

Harvey’s voice was a paradox that was driving Mike crazy. Because Mike had fallen in love with it, with the way it sounded, the low, deep quality, the certainty in it when he was closing a client, the helplessness in it when he’d pleaded with Mike after kissing him. But right now it felt more like a relentless stream of salt into an open wound, and as soon as Mike felt the sting start to fade, Harvey had something else to say, and Mike was back to squeezing his eyes closed and wincing.

“Yeah, we’re sure,” he announced sharply, before Sean could answer. He gave Harvey his best  _Are you done yet?_  expression. But knowing Sean ultimately had the final say, Mike shifted his attention toward him and waited.

“It’s just Jersey, Harvey,” Sean said, holding Mike’s stare for a few seconds and then turning back. “We’ll be fine.”

Looking somewhat satisfied, Harvey nodded once, brought his hands up to Sean’s face and cradled it gently while he kissed his forehead. Across the room, Mike took a deep breath through his nose and looked back down at the contents of the open duffel bag.

“I’m ready when you are, Sean,” he called. “Whenever you two are…done.”

“Yeah, let me just…” Sean guiltily pulled himself out of Harvey’s grasp. “Let me just get dressed.”

He disappeared into his bedroom and closed the door, leaving Harvey to walk away and linger a few feet from Mike.

“What?”

Harvey shrugged. “Nothing,” he said softly.

“Okay, well…you’re watching me like you watch Sean in a towel and it’s weird.”

“I’m not watching you, Mike. I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to finish packing and unpacking and packing that bag.”

“Why?”

“So I can ask you something.”

Irritated, Mike closed the bag with a harsh zip and looked up.  _“What?”_

“Work for me, again.”

“That wasn’t a question, Harvey. That was an order. Everything you say is an order. Or a demand. Or a threat or—”

“Okay.” Harvey put up one hand in surrender and looked Mike in the eye. “I don’t want you to work with anyone else. I’m asking—” he paused and took a deep breath. “I’m asking if you’ll come back, Mike.”

Mike nearly said no, but all that was running though his head was how he’d only worked with Reeves for two and a half days yet already missed Harvey, regardless of whether or not the past few months had been a collective whirlwind of reasons not to. Harvey was staring back at him with hopeful brown eyes and Mike – God help him – gave in.

“I’ll think about it, Harvey.”

Harvey nodded. “Fair enough.”

“So…” Mike shifted his weight. “Is that all?”

“Yeah…” Harvey looked around and then back with a curious glint.  _“Tell me one more thing. If you had to go into battle, would you want me with you?”_

Mike bit his lip and shook his head, fighting back and then cursing the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. But with Harvey’s eyes following his every move, it was a losing battle, and he ended up laughing loudly despite himself.

Sean reemerged from his room, this time in jeans and a-shirt. “I’m ready,” he announced. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Mike grabbed his bag by the strap and lifted it over his shoulder. “Harvey’s just trying to lure me off the 43rd floor with  _Top Gun_  quotes.”

“Oh. Is it working?”

“Not sure yet.”

Harvey indulged them and their smirks for ten seconds before holding up his hands. “Alright, alright.” He marched over and grabbed Sean’s suitcase, pulled open the door and ushered them through with a sharp nod. “Go, now, both of you. Before you hit rush hour or Ray strands me in this neighborhood without any weapons.”

Mike shot him an exaggeratedly offended scowl as he followed Sean out.  _“That’s pretty arrogant, considering the company you’re in.”_

“I got it.” Harvey swatted his hair. “Keep walking, kid.”

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[Diamonds Are Forever](http://www.complex.com/pop-culture/2012/11/25-coolest-hitmen-movies/mr-wint-and-mr-kidd)-_   
>  _As hired assassins, Wint and Kidd are dispatched to take out James Bond by any means necessary._   
>  _Top Gun \- “That’s pretty arrogant, considering the company you’re in.” / “Tell me one more thing, if you had to go into battle, would you want him with you?”_   
> 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I have no idea why this took me so long...other than that I sort of lost my focus for a bit. If you're reading, thank you so much for sticking with this story despite that. This chapter got ridiculously long, so I ended up splitting it in two. As a result the next one should follow much quicker (I swear!) 
> 
> Added a few tags/warnings for this and future chapters.
> 
> Endless gratitude to [innerdialogue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/innerdialogue/) for keeping me going and always being there to beta.

*

 

**Saturday, Day 91**

 

 

Mike didn’t need Sean’s confirmation of the identity of the couple in the pew to the left of them. Judging by the single dirty look shot their way, he surmised it was Mr. and Mrs. Westlee, and for the rest of the service, Mike kept his eyes up front, half listening to a priest, half glancing at Sean who was sitting next to him, stoic or just very, very numb.

There was a lot of talk about God and sin, addiction and redemption, and by the time it all was over, Mike felt like a walking mistake. Fortunately, in the end, he didn’t care enough about the possibility of eternal punishment to dwell on it. He followed Sean through an adjoining room, past the small crowd picking hors d’oeurves from a table in the back – which he found a little uncomfortable; he’d been to a lot of funerals but didn’t recall ever having an appetite.

“Jesus _Christ,”_ Sean breathed, once they’d gotten outside. It was the first thing he’d said since leaving the hotel.

Mike nodded. “That seems to be the theme.”

“I can’t listen to anymore of that, I can’t sit there and watch people walk up and look at his dead body, or ask if anyone wants to say a few words. What was I supposed to say? Sorry I was too broke to visit you? If it’s any consolation, you’re still the favorite? I gotta get out of here, Mike.”

“Okay. Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go to a bar. I want a drink.”

“It’s 11am, Sean.”

“Oh.” Sean scratched the back of his head and paced outside the church. “Right.”

Mike watched for a few minutes, trying to think of something to do, somewhere to go, that might in the very least distract him from the emotional gut punch the morning had been. He almost suggested just going back to the hotel, making up for the sleep Sean hadn’t gotten between all the restless tossing and turning and anxiety the night before, but a deep, disappointed voice interrupted before he had the chance.

“I know you walked out on your family early but to do the same at your brother’s funeral?”

Sean turned around first like someone had physically spun him. At first he appeared a little caught off-guard, but then his face went bitter like this had been in the cards all along.

“I didn’t walk out, Dad, you _kicked_ me out!”

A man with slightly-graying blonde hair sauntered off the steps of the church. “You brought that on yourself,” he hissed.

“I was seventeen!” Sean held out his hands with a twitch of what looked like dismay, tempered by about nine years of resignation. “How did I bring that on myself?!”

“You chose to sin. No one led you down that path except for you.” He paused to motion in Mike’s direction with a dismissive hand. “And now you’ve brought your disgusting lifestyle with you to a place of God? Is that how you pay respects to your brother?”

There was a quiet, calculated viciousness to the man and his tone that made Mike shiver, even though the weather was uncharacteristically mild for late November. And as he continued advancing toward Sean, Mike took an instinctive, protective step to the side, slowly but certainly inserting himself between the two men.

“Who are you, anyway?” Sean’s father asked roughly. It was the first time since marching out shouting that he’d actually looked at Mike, and both Mike and Sean waited for it – for the inevitable paling of his face and the fleeting look of terror and confusion that washed over his features as his eyes darted wildly between them.

Finally, Sean shook his head. “Relax, Dad. There’s only one of me. I’m sure God figured you couldn’t handle the disappointment of two.”

_SLAP!_

If Mike had seen it coming, he would’ve finished taking the last few steps in front of Sean. But it happened far too quickly to intervene; hardly even a blur of a raised hand before it was all over and Sean was stumbling backward, Mike reaching out to just barely grasp the material of his suit in time to steady him, his father remaining stone-faced and unapologetic.

“What the f—” It was all too sudden, too familiar. Mike didn’t know what to do, and even his brain that was usually ten steps ahead was having difficulty catching up to the situation. When it finally did, he felt his fist balling up by his side.

“Mike, don’t,” he heard Sean say, and fingers gently wrapped around his wrist, holding it in place. “It’s not worth it.” Something in his voice told Mike this was a battle Sean had given up a long time ago, so, reluctantly, Mike relented.

“Troy?” There was a woman holding open the door at the top of the steps, forty-something, dark hair, willowy still in a modest, calf-length black dress. She appeared friendly, if a little confused, Mike surmised, though he was fully aware that looks could be – and often were – deceiving. “Honey, what’s going on?”

“Mom—” Sean started, just this side of hopeful, but the word barely made it past his lips before a louder voice cut in.

“Nothing, Maria. I was just coming back inside.” His father looked over his shoulder and then turned around, expression fading once again into cold indifference. “Do your mother and me a favor, Sean,” he whispered sharply. “Take your boyfriend and don’t ever come back here again.”

He walked away after that, disappeared into the church with his wife without looking back, as if it were extra luggage he was leaving fifty feet from a street instead of his son.

Mike just stared for a few seconds, mouth open in disbelief, not entirely sure of what he just witnessed but absolutely certain that he never wanted to again. Beside him, Sean swallowed hard and turned away.

“Sean—”

“It’s just…whatever, Mike. Let’s just go.” Sean wrung his hands together sniffled. “Let’s just drive back tonight. I can’t stay in this fucking state another day.”

“Whoa, Sean, you just buried your brother. We’re not…jumping onto I-95 now.”

“Then what the fuck are we doing, Mike?”

Mike sighed, put one hand on the back of Sean’s neck, and began steering him slowly toward the parking lot. “We’re gonna go back to the hotel. You’re gonna sleep—”

“That sounds like it will fix everything. You get lauded and paid for these ideas?”

“I’m not done yet,” Mike told him. “Tonight we’re gonna go downstairs to the bar. And get wasted. And Harvey’s gonna pick up the tab. Deal?”

Sean brought both palms up, wiping the tears out of his eyes before nodding. “Okay.” He almost smiled. “Deal.”

 

*

 

Mike was surveying the bar with slightly-hooded eyes when he thought of something and swiveled in his seat to face Sean. “Does this place remind you of something?”

“What, like the night we met?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know.” Sean glanced around. “This place is like…for rich businessmen…and that bar was more for…”

“...the desperate lower middle class?” Mike asked.

“Yeah. Sounds about right.”

Sean used his sleeve to dry the sheen of liquor-induced sweat on his forehead. He felt dizzy, and the row of empty shot glasses in front of them was easily the reason why.

Mike picked up on his swaying – or was it his own? “I hope this wasn’t a bad idea,” he muttered.

“I don’t feel worse than I already did,” Sean assured him. “What about you?”

“I feel…discontent.”

“Discontent?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Big word for a genius,” Sean teased.

Mike waved down the bartender. “Two Crowns, straight up.” He shrugged innocently when Sean arched an eyebrow. “What? We’re not wasted yet.”

“I’m drinking what you’re drinking.”

They clanked the glasses together, tossed back nearly all of the whisky at once without the slightest grimace. By this point, everything pretty much tasted the same. Particularly, like someone melted a cedar tree into a vat of gasoline. But the bitterness went well with how they felt inside, so they swallowed it down.

After a few minutes of silence – aside from the quiet chatter of the other mostly-middle-aged patrons, and a lone TV – Mike spoke up. “Sometimes I wish I’d never met him.”

“Bullshit,” Sean said. He didn’t need to ask who. “You can’t even say that with a straight face.”

“Maybe not,” Mike admitted. “But then I wouldn’t feel like this.”

“Like shit?”

“Like…I don’t know…like I’ve been in quicksand for two years and I know it’s gonna kill me, eventually, but I don’t even try to get out anymore.”

Sean regarded him carefully. “Will you punch me if I say I know how you feel?”

Mike looked down and laughed. “No.”

“I’m not trying to equivocate. I just…I feel like I’m sinking sometimes, too. One day I’m smart, and handsome, and perfect, and the next—” Sean winced in preparation of his own words. “The next day I’m stupid, a slut, a mistake, an…inconvenience.”

“Can’t catch our balance long enough to do anything right.”

“Yeah.”

Mike looked back in empathy and sighed. Seconds ticked by, comfortable and buzzed.

“Sometimes I wish I'd met him sooner,” Sean confessed, quickly elaborating when Mike sat up straight. “I don’t mean because I was so bored that I needed all this shit to happen. I mean because, yeah, I love him, however fucked up that is at the end of the day. But mostly, because I met you. It sounds stupid but...”

“No, I know,” Mike agreed. “Me too.”

They didn’t need to expand on that. There was the unspoken fact that they’d both been missiles, recklessly diverting off course throughout early adulthood, causing massive destruction along the way, and meeting each other had at least slowed them both down a little.

Mike sloshed the last swallow of his drink around in his glass, shoulders drooping. “Sean,” he said, after a few minutes. His head swung gently to his left. “Your parents. I, uh, didn’t realize how bad it was for you.”

Sean just grunted, picked at the label on a long-since empty beer bottle. _Beer before liquor, never sicker,_ echoed in his head, some gem he’d learned the hard way in college. But tonight it didn’t really matter. They were destined to puke either way.

“When we had that fight at Harvey’s,” Mike continued. “I didn’t mean to say you had it better than me just because—”

“It’s okay, Mike,” Sean cut him off gently.

Mike was grateful for the interruption, since he hadn’t actually planned out his words beyond that. He continued studying Sean, however, until something occurred to him. “He’s hit you before,” he murmured, almost exactly at the moment he realized it himself.

Sean scoffed. “That obvious?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mike replied. “You just practically hit the ground before he even moved.”

“Oh.”

“When?”

“What?”

“When did he start hitting you?”

Sean sighed.  “I don’t really remember. I mean, he wasn’t exactly gentle when I was a kid but…sixteen, I guess.” He didn’t look up from the bar. “I hadn’t come out yet, but I think he suspected it. I never brought girls home, didn’t go to prom. He just…slowly started to hate me. So when I turned seventeen I just told him. He kicked me out and…I was upset, sure, but at least I didn’t have to deal with it anymore, you know?”

“Sean, he hit you in the face,” Mike frowned in confusion. “For…for no _reason.”_

“That wasn’t so bad, Mike,” Sean hoped the dimness of the place hid the way his features knitted together in pain, but judging by Mike’s expression, it didn’t. “Better than getting whipped with a belt buckle for forty-five minutes.”

“He did that?”

“Usually on holidays.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“In the name of. Supposedly. I don’t know. Hard to believe in God when I was choking on my own tears, really.”

They fell quiet again, much to Sean’s relief. Even with Mike, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to discuss. And as long as Mike hadn’t suspected anything short of ignorance on his parents’part, Sean hadn’t felt particularly compelled to enlighten him.

“Harvey hit me like that.”

Mike’s voice shook Sean from harrowing memories. He blinked. “What?”

“The way your dad hit you today,” Mike specified. “That’s how Harvey hit me. Just, like…all of a sudden. I mean, I said things…I wasn’t… _professional,_ I was yelling…but I never saw it coming, Sean. And he just walked away.”

Sean looked into Mike’s questioning blue eyes, and realized it was the first time he’d ever really considered their age difference. It was three years. Closer to four than three, but still, that wasn’t very significant. Certainly nothing like the decade-and-a-half between them and Harvey. And for the most part, they were at the same place in life – still a little confused, but gaining traction. Emotionally, Sean figured, they were probably both about twenty-two. But he allowed himself to really reflect on being twenty-three and conceded that he had, in fact, changed since. Endured more, suffered more, learned more. Mike was staring back, and though ninety-nine percent of the time they were equals, it was this instance, right now, that Sean could tell Mike was actually looking up to him. For something, though neither of them was really sure what it was. Advice, maybe, or guidance – all different ways of saying the same thing. Sean didn’t think he had any wisdom to impart on Mike – at least nothing that Mike didn’t already know as a result of all the trials and errors of life – but he figured he’d give it try.

“Harvey is not my father, Mike. Trust me.”

“It doesn’t scare you a little, though?”

“It made me scared for you, yeah. What about you?”

Mike shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Okay, listen,” Sean took a deep breath. “I’m gonna tell you two things okay?” When Mike nodded hurriedly, he continued. “Harvey has fucked up, Mike, we both know that. More times than either of us should probably even let him off the hook for. And I’m your best friend, and I’m older, and I have to tell you that if you don’t feel safe around him? If what he did to you, or me, scared you, and it _still_ scares you, or your gut tells you something’s wrong? Then run in the other direction. Trust your instinct. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“Mike, I’m serious.”

“I know. I said okay.” Mike nodded once. After a few seconds, he added, “What was the second thing?”

“This is only what I think, Mike, only my opinion. It’s not necessarily rational. You have to take it with a grain of salt, alright?”

“Yeah. Fine. What is it, Sean?”

“They’re not the same kind of person. My dad was…ruthless. And premeditated. Knew exactly what he was doing the whole time he was doing it, and didn’t give a shit after it was over. So,” Sean flinched a little. “As someone who got knocked around a lot? That isn’t Harvey. Harvey’s…human. And he’s emotional and impulsive, which can be a really, really vicious cycle. But…I think it can be broken, too.”

“You think he’s changed,” Mike observed.

“No,” Sean shook his head. “I think he _can_ change. But I’m not a psychiatrist, Mike. I just happen to have some experience with the kind of person who can’t. And I love him, too. So I guess that makes my opinions biased. Which is why I told you the first part.”

“You don’t have to add a disclaimer, Sean. You’re not responsible for me.”

“Of course I am.”

Mike broke into a small smile and ducked his head.

In an effort to lighten the mood, Sean looked up and nodded toward the bartender. “One more?” he asked.

“I’m gonna die,” Mike said. “But yeah.”

“Let’s make it count then. Two vodkas. Double. Please.”

“This is all gonna catch up to us in about five minutes.”

“Yup,” Sean tipped backed the glass as soon as it was slid toward him, his stomach lurching a little as he forced the liquid down his throat. “Ugh. Fuck,” he groaned. Beside him, he could almost feel the same nauseous tremor from Mike. 

“Pretty much.” Mike waved a hand over all of the various shot glasses and bottles in front of them. “This is all coming back up.”

“I guess it’s just a matter of what we do until then,” Sean whispered, and he didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did, suggestive and breathy and a little slurred. It was just the way he was leaning, his jaw resting in his hand, arm resting on the bar, Mike’s eyes happening to be in his direct line of vision. Or maybe he did mean it. Honestly, what felt like a pint of liquor was crash landing into his bloodstream at the moment, and he wasn’t entirely sure he had control over how his words or body language might be interpreted.

Mike, of course, took it upon himself to derive the absolute least healthy implication from what could’ve been an innocent remark. They could just sit there, continue talking until their words ran together like oil and their heads swam and the bartender cut them off. They could take the elevator upstairs and fight over who got to throw up first, or just skip that part altogether, pass out in separate beds and sleep it off, wake up in the morning with deathly hangovers and commiserate.

Or, Mike could grin like he’d just found a multi-million dollar loophole and it was subsistence and he hadn’t eaten in a week. He could follow the most imperceptible movements of Sean’s body with his eyes and say, “You’re hot.”

Sean rolled his eyes, but didn’t look away. “You’re vain.”

“Harvey’s vain. I’m not vain.”

“Well, I didn’t mean vain as in Harvey. I meant vain as in you think I’m hot because you think you’re hot.”

“They’re sorta mutually inclusive, Sean.” When Sean didn’t reply, Mike gripped the edge of the bar for leverage as he sat up. “I don’t see myself when I look at you, if that’s what you think.”

Mike seemed to be waiting for something, and when it clicked, Sean shook his head. “You’re hot too, Mike,” he admitted, turning away. “If I’m done stroking your ego, maybe we should close our tab.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re surrounded by half a dozen drunk republicans and you’re breathing on my face.”

Victorious, Mike smirked, watching intently as Sean flagged the bartender down for their credit card, and then did an impressively convincing job of forging _Harvey Specter_ on the receipt.

“You’ve done that a few times.”

Sean scowled, dropping the pen, grabbing the card and sliding it into his jeans. “What, and you haven’t?”

“Don’t need to. My name is on the company card.”

“Oh. Yeah, well, I guess with this being his personal card…”

Mike got to his feet too quickly and stumbled, reaching out reflexively for something to steady himself with. What he found was Sean’s shoulder. “If you’re trying…to make me…jealous—” he swallowed hard. “Not gonna work. I don’t care tonight.”

“I’m not trying to make you jealous, Mike. You just are. And I don’t know why. It beats the hell outta me.” Sean slung an arm under Mike and hauled him to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Getting to the third floor in that state was a feat they didn’t manage very quickly. It took a lot of stumbling and laughing on Mike’s part, and annoyed curses and occasional smiles on Sean’s, who was being hit either a little more slowly or a little less hard by the liquor.

“Mike!” he barked. “Can you stand up on your own for two seconds so I can open the door?”

Mike shook his head and moaned. “No. Can’t.” He pressed himself up against Sean and put his head on his shoulder. “Open.”

“Yeah, Mike, it’s not voice activated, I’m working on it.”

The card finally slid in the right way, a green light flashed, a sharp beep, and the door was pushing open, and Mike was sailing forward and struggling to stay upright. “Fuck, I’m drunk.”

“Yeah.” Sean closed his eyes at his own personal wave of dizziness. “Your idea, remember?” He let the door swing closed, and then flipped the deadbolt and the security latch. Ingrained New York habits, probably. When he turned back around, Mike was there, closer this time, blue eyes heavy-lidded and a little red.

“But it was a good idea, right?” he asked, almost entirely for the sake of validation. “I was trying to make you feel better—” He put his hands on Sean’s chest. “I was trying to…make you forget…”

“I know.” Sean put his hands on top of Mike’s, with the intention of peeling them off. But the heat from them radiating through his shirt to his skin, was enough to make him pause just long enough. “You did. I forgot.”

“No you didn’t.” Mike pushed closer, breath hot and sharp like whisky. “You’re still sad.”

“I’m okay, Mike.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

Mike shrugged, face hardly an inch from Sean’s, but pointed downward, his gaze locked on the floor. “I dunno,” he mumbled. “Are you drunk?”

Sean almost laughed. “Yeah,” he conceded. “I’m drunk.”

“Good. I wanna know what it’s like.”

“What what’s like?

“Harvey.” Mike replied simply, like that was enough of an answer all by itself. And for most questions, it was. It was the one name that could sum up every feeling, every problem; account for every angry tear.

“Mike, I don’t…”

“How he fucks you. I wanna know what it’s like.”

This wasn't the kind of get-drunk, pass-out situation Sean had been hoping for ever since watching a line of people he didn't even know take turns viewing his brother’s dead body. This was getting too messy, too complicated, too Harvey-centric which, even between him and Mike, was still sometimes a touchy subject. In fact, tonight was probably the first time that he’d been able to admit to loving Harvey without some variation of a cold-shoulder backlash.

And suddenly, all Sean could see and smell and feel and hear was Mike, up against him, forehead-to-chest, muttering incoherencies that sounded less like words and more like a long-winded self-loathing whine.

“Mike, I—”

“Come on,” Mike whispered, though it sounded miles away, even as he moved his mouth up to Sean’s collarbone. “Show me.”

Sean relented, only because it was impossible not to. He tipped Mike’s chin up with two fingers and kissed him, _hard._ Because as overwhelming as half the day had been and as bad of an idea as this was, it was safe. Not in the sense that it might not cause a rainstorm of brand new problems, but safe in that it was _Mike._ And Mike wasn’t going to regret him, or call him a slut, or tell him he wasn’t good enough. Mike would follow his lead – and he did, stepping back for every step forward Sean took, falling gently onto the bed like his brain had memorized the layout of the room down to the last detail (indeed, it had) – and he wouldn’t ask questions, because he already knew the answers.

“Fuck,” he breathed, when Sean’s weight settled against him, pressed him into the mattress that he safely assumed cost way more than his monthly rent. He knew Harvey knew better than to try to goad or impress him with monetary endeavors, so Mike had to figure this was all for Sean’s benefit. Though it was better than the street, which was where they’d probably be sleeping otherwise. His mind was way too blurry to dwell on any of that for more than a few seconds, though; even the plush blankets under him were a fleeting observation before Sean’s mouth met his again, and then he was back to floating.

Their tongues slid together, wet and hot and careless, and the whole thing was ungraceful and uncoordinated and really, really stupid but there was no pressure. The alcohol slowed everything down, and their months of bonding over their similarities and their struggles and their ugly childhood trauma to their fights and arguments over Harvey, suddenly all felt like a strange sort of foreplay, and now it was unfolding here, in a five-star hotel room, spilling across the bed like liquid gold; one part jealousy, one part grief, mostly unconditional love.

“Do it,” Mike hissed, after smiling wide enough to break their kiss. “I’ll do whatever he wants.”

“Mike.” Sean dropped his head until his face hovered close. “We just drank like a pint of hard liquor. I don’t think I can even get—”

Mike shifted his knee in between Sean’s thigh and pushed up, up, up until he felt an erection straining through Sean’s jeans. “You sure?”

 _“Unh,”_ Sean bit his lip. “Okay, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t, Mike. You know we can’t.”

Under him, Mike let out a frustrated sigh but then relaxed, letting his leg fall softly back onto the bed, because he _did_ know, and either way, he’d respect a form of  _stop_ regardless of all of the liquor circulating through his system. “All hail Harvey Specter,” he slurred, laughing as he let his head loll to the side. “Go directly to jail. Do not play with his toys, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

Sean rolled off and onto his back with a short sigh, and the room began to spin a little slower. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t sure what for.

Mike responded only by turning over, throwing an arm over Sean’s chest and nuzzling up to his neck. His breathing grew slower and deeper and his whole body was a scalding pressure plastered up against Sean’s side.

“Are you gonna be sick, Mike?”

“Dunno,” Mike muttered. “What are…you…sorry for? I…” But his words died quickly after that, replaced by a steady exchange of air through his mouth and out through his nose that resulted in a rhythmic whistling.

Sean slipped his arm around him. It wasn’t possible to pull him any closer, but Sean could make sure Mike stayed there while he laid next to him, staring up at the ceiling as it moved lazily in a wide circle in his slightly-blurry vision. With what little energy hadn’t yet been zapped by alcohol, he reached out his free hand and clicked off a lamp.

In the dark, Mike’s question still lingered in his head, unanswered. _What are you sorry for?_ Sean swallowed against a wave of nausea, and it was difficult to tell if it was the result of intoxication or guilt.

He closed his eyes. _Everything._

 

*

 

**Wednesday, Day 95**

 

Sean hesitated briefly just outside the elevators, wondering which way to go. There was no one at the desk to direct – or stop – him, so he eventually decided that right looked promising, and off he went, arms at his side, palms wet with nervous sweat, heartbeat thudding a little quicker than normal. This was Harvey’s territory – he could already feel it, already sense it – and showing up here was breaking so many unwritten rules, it was impossible to even calculate. But, feeling bold – and angry and hurt and discarded – Sean continued walking. It occurred to him several seconds later that he didn’t actually know where he was going, and his bravado started to falter. He looked around nervously for someone to ask for directions, but the few people striding passed looked busy or pissed.

Suddenly he felt a stout, swaying presence fall into step just over his shoulder, and a voice cut in that sounded like a fast, bored purr, punctuated by frequent wild gesticulation that Sean could just barely make out in his peripheral vision.

“Hey, Mike, just the man I wanted to see. Listen, I know you’re playing house, with Reeves, because you and Harvey, had like, a marital spat, over, like, who buys the ties, but you have duties that extend beyond him and as you well know, you’re technically still under my command, and your presence, however meager in the grand scheme of law, is still required in the associates pool, so I’m gonna need you to—”

Sean took a deep breath and whirled around. “Look, dude, I’m not Mike, okay?”

There was a silence and then, _“Holy_ shit.”

When what was happening sank in, Sean tugged self-consciously on his sleeve. He’d worn dark jeans and one of his nicer button ups over a t-shirt (though he hadn’t bothered with buttoning it up _all_ the way), even put a nominal amount of gel in his hair, and a spritz of cologne from the bottle Mike had left in his bag. It was mostly an effort to look less ‘hopeless college student/ex high class hooker’ than usual, but part of him also figured if he was going to storm Harvey’s castle – he might as well look good doing it.

Before he could think of something sufficiently reasonable to explain his existence, the man in front of him laughed, wide and creepy, and Sean took a step back.

“What is this? Some kind of joke? What are you, like, his long-lost brother?”

“What?” Sean frowned. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And I don’t know a Persian from a Domestic Shorthair. Please. You know exactly who I’m talking about because you have the same face so tell me—” the sarcastic smile vanished. “Who you are and what the hell you’re doing in my firm.”

A little stunned, Sean tripped over his words. He’d been so concerned with how Harvey would react to his visit that he hadn’t considered other people would also see him. “I’m here to see Harvey Specter.”

With that, the man grabbed his arm like he was auction cattle and tugged him away.

 

*

 

Donna saw it coming first. Of course.

“Oh. Shit. Harvey!”

Harvey saw it after, but by then it was too late. Louis was striding straight past Donna, through all of her warnings, and dragging Sean in behind him.

All Harvey managed to do was get hastily to his feet, but, too stunned to speak, he just stood there staring.

“I found this waif in the hallway looking for you,” Louis said, smug on the surface but going insane with curiosity underneath. “I know Mike ditched you for Reeves, but I think you’re taking this whole replacement thing a little too seriously, Harvey.”

Both Sean and Harvey prickled at the word _replacement._ If Louis noticed, he didn’t back down.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked. “See, cloning allows you to have a twin but personalities and intellect can’t actually be replicated. I bet he’s not half as brilliant at Mike.” He turned to Sean with a cruel smirk. “Are you?”

“Get out.” Harvey’s tone was low, deadly.

“But Harvey—”

One more glare and Louis begrudgingly headed for the door, stopping briefly outside of it to whisper, “Donna, I expect a full recap of _The Parent Trap,_ capiche? Okay, good talk.”

Back inside Harvey’s office, Sean felt the wall of courage he’d somehow maintained for the past few hours just crumble right there on the spot. Even his anger stymied at the sight of Harvey, and he cringed at the mere implication of it all; of how weak it meant he was if he couldn’t even stow his emotions for thirty seconds to tell Harvey how bad he felt.

Instead, he just stared at his feet until Harvey inevitably spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing in my office, Sean?”

Sean recognized the tone immediately. It was the same tone Harvey always used – intentionally or not – when he was absolutely furious but not able to or trying not to show it. It brewed subtly and ominously behind the words, but Sean knew it was there.

“I, uh…”

“You, _uh,_ what?”

“You didn’t answer my texts so—”

“Ohhh, I didn’t answer your texts.” Harvey briskly made his way around his desk. “So you decided to just march into my firm and—”

“And what?” Sean asked challengingly, although he took two steps back for every one Harvey took in his direction. “Embarrass you?”

Harvey seethed, but said nothing, turned away from Sean and paced slowly in front of the windows.

“I’m sorry, Harvey, but you haven’t talked to me since I left for Jersey and—”

“Four days, Sean!” Harvey shouted, wiping his mouth. “Four—” he lowered his voice to a fleeting whisper, _“fucking”_ and then back up, “days!”

“But we never go that long without talking!” Sean slinked back. “And you didn’t…you didn’t even ask me how it went.”

“You went to a funeral, Sean. I figured it was shitty.”

“It…it was, but, then…then something happened and I—”

“Listen, I can’t do this, okay? Not here.” Harvey sat back at his desk and pointed at the door. “You have to go.”

“Then when?”

“I don’t know.”

“I didn’t come here to get you trouble, Harvey. I just wanted you to pay attention to me.”

“Well, no shit, Sean. You got it.”

Sean made a noise of frustration and resisted the urge to actually stomp, or grab a baseball from Harvey’s gratuitous collection and heave it at something. He was twenty-six, but this was pain so pent up he wasn’t so sure words could free it fast enough.

“That’s not what I meant! I want you listen to me and actually _hear_ me.”

“I hear you, Sean. But this was business. Past tense. And it has to stay that way.”

 _“Bullshit, Harvey!_ This stopped being _business_ the second you let me in your own bed.” Sean’s voice was strained, and he pointed accusingly in Harvey’s direction, frantically rattling off occasions. “This stopped being _business_ the second you stopped _paying me._ This stopped being _business_ the second you cooked me dinner. It stopped being _business_ the second I said stop and you didn’t. It wasn’t business when you told me you cared about me. So you can’t just pretend I don’t _exist_ now!”

_“Sean—”_

“No, I wanna know what you want from me, Harvey!”

“I don’t _want_ anything from you.”

“I…I…is it—is it just sex? Or am I—am I just, like, a backup in case Mike bails on you one day?”

Harvey’s narrowed his eyes. “ _Goddamn it,_ Sean,” he snapped. “I said I don’t want anything from you. Okay? You need to leave. _Now.”_

“No.”

“No?”

“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave, and I’ll never come back, and I’ll never call or text or show up at you—”

“Jesus Christ. I didn’t tell you to leave forever, Sean. We can…talk about this later, right now, I gotta get back to work.”

“Later when?”

“What?”

“You said we can talk about it later, so _when?”_

Harvey sighed, raked his hand over his face. He felt old today. And he was about to tell Sean _My place, later, I’ll text you._ But Donna appeared in the doorway and intercepted the words before they rolled off his tongue.

“Harvey, the client with the—”

“Give us a minute, Donna,” He put up a hand to stop her, but his tone was gentle.

Sean scowled, reached into his jeans and pulled out his wallet, searching the minimal contents. “No, she can stay,” he said. “I was about to leave anyway.”

He stalked over to Harvey’s desk, slapped a black Visa card down with enough force to scatter a few papers, and then turned and stormed out, muttering an apology to Donna under his breath.

In his wake, Donna waited a few seconds and then took a tentative step further into the office.

“Well,” she announced. “That went even worse than I imagined.”

 

*

 

Sean was looking out the window of a coffee shop, not quite focusing, all the flutter of activity and sound around him fading into the background while he zoned out. Every ten seconds something would jerk him back to reality, but he still felt numb. He looked down at an open book, and what typically came easy to him suddenly appeared foreign, impossible to learn. His laptop rested in its case by his feet, unopened, untouched. Nothing about the past couple days had been conducive to concentrating on anything, not in the least of which was homework. His temple was still throbbing invisibly from what felt less like a recent right hook and more of a reminder of all of those before it. Midterms loomed ahead but – for the first time since starting college – he couldn’t find a shred of emotion in himself that was strong enough to care.

He reached across the books for his phone.

[1:18pm] Sean: _I’m sorry._

Knowing it wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, didn’t stop him from doing it. And if there was anything or anyone left that could break through his grief-induced apathy, it was Harvey.

[1:20pm] Harvey: _Don’t worry about it._

Sarcasm bled through the words, through the screen, and almost into something tangible; something that made Sean nauseous and even guiltier than he already felt. He didn’t regret what he’d told Harvey – that much had been honest, and frankly, long overdue – but he _was_ sorry for dragging their dirty laundry into the firm. Even when he’d threatened to go public with their affair, he’d been bluffing. Because Harvey’s career was one thing Sean never actually wanted to jeopardize.

[1:24pm] Sean: _I’ve been sitting in Starbucks for 45 minutes and I’m going crazy. Can I kill time at your place until work?  
_ [1:25pm] Sean: _Please. I won’t touch anything  
_ [1:27pm] Harvey: _Fine, Sean._

Trying to measure the level of Harvey’s anger through text messages was a challenge, but it wasn’t impossible. An educated guess told Sean that the needle seemed to be falling somewhere between _really annoyed_ and _still pissed._ But there was really only one way to know for sure.

[1:28pm] Sean: _How pissed off are you?  
_ [1:29pm] Harvey: _I’m trying to work, Sean. You wanna come over or not?  
_ [1:29pm] Sean: _yes  
_ [1:29pm] Harvey: _Then we’re done playing 20 questions_

 

*

 

Sean tried not to let it get to him when Harvey insisted they meet three blocks away from the firm so he could pick up a key. He just accepted it wordlessly, deflated a little under Harvey’s disappointed stare, and nodded another apology before awkwardly shifting on his feet.

“Uh, what time will you be home?”

Harvey licked his lips, this time out of annoyance rather than lust. “I don’t know Sean, probably sometime after I’m done working.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Look,” He sighed. “I’ll get home when I get home. If you leave before me, put the security code in and lock the door behind you. Okay?”

Sean nodded, though he already knew he had no intention of going to work that night. But one bombshell at a time was the safest way to go with Harvey, so he didn’t bring it up. Instead, when Harvey point over his head to the street, Sean turned and followed the direction of his thumb toward a sleek Town Car.

“Ray will take you.”

Another obedient nod and Sean thought he was home free – so to speak; he still didn’t feel like he had a home – but just as he stepped toward the curb and the waiting car, Harvey’s voice called out over all of the traffic and bustle of the city, and the tone stilled him immediately.

“Sean.”

He stopped, one hand on the door, and looked back expectantly.

“Don’t ever—” Harvey gestured down the street in the direction of the firm. _“Ever_ come to my office again. Unless I bring you there – which I won’t – or you’re a client, which you aren’t. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Sean mumbled. “I got it.”

Satisfied, for now, Harvey dipped his head toward the passenger window. “Thanks, Ray,” he called, and then turned and walked away.

 

*

 

Moving swiftly, nerves still alight with irritation from Sean’s impromptu confrontation that morning, Harvey made quick work of the walk back to the firm. He wasn’t expecting to see Mike waiting at the elevators, but when he did, he felt a wave of calmness sweep over him. His heart rate ticked a beat or two slower, and the stress he felt thrumming under his skin tempered a bit.  

He risked a gentle, “Hey, Mike,” and was rewarded with a soft smile.

“Hi.”

There were eight seconds of almost awkward silence before two elevators dinged, opened, and Harvey made an executive decision to follow Mike onto the same one.

“I looked for you yesterday,” he said carefully, treading lightly because there was tension between them he could only explain by their nearly five-day window of no contact. It was a professional record for them. Not seeing or speaking to each other for that long was bound make things weird when they eventually did. “And the day before.”

“I know,” Mike answered. He pressed their respective floor numbers and stepped back, into a corner of the elevator opposite Harvey. “I was busy with Reeves. We’ve been in court every day this week on the Winston case.”

Harvey nodded, feeling a fraction less neglected. It didn’t sound like an excuse; the Winston case was indeed a complicated one, requiring the work of multiple partners and associates throughout the firm, including Mike, and himself, and Louis, and even Jessica. If it had swamped him, it had surely kept Mike busy since Mike was working under the partner whose name was actually on it.

“Do you like working with her?” he asked, a little cautiously. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer, the elevator ride promised to be a silent sort of hell if he didn’t say something.

“Reeves? Yeah, she’s great,” Mike replied quickly, too quickly, and Harvey closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” he conceded. “She is.”

“Kinda like you, actually. Except you should see her when she cross examines, I mean, she _dominates._ Oh, and better hair.” When Harvey looked over his shoulder and scowled, Mike laughed. “Chill, Harvey. I’m not _comparing_ you to anyone. That’s your thing.”

Tense all over again, Harvey turned back to face the front of the elevator and take a quiet breath. “I want you back,” he confessed, for the second time since Friday, the words heavy and honest on his tongue.

“Professionally or personally? Because you never had me the second way.”

“Professionally,” Harvey gritted out. “And maybe we can…go from there.”

Mike was silent for a floor or two before he said, “I told you I’d think about it, Harvey. I still am.”

“Then we can just talk,” Harvey suggested, angling his body toward Mike. “Come over tonight. I’ll make dinner, I’ll tell you—”  

“I can’t, Harvey.” Mike looked pained. “Sorry, I—I’m not gonna get out here until like, really late tonight. And I need the financials on the case that Louis gave you.”

“I’ll have Donna leave them on my desk,” Harvey told him. “And you can come over late. I’ll wait up.”

“No, Harvey, I mean I’m gonna be working all night, then I’ll have like five hours to sleep before court again. I’m kicking ass on this case. I want Jessica to notice. I wanted… _you_ to notice.”

“I did notice, Mike. I guess I just…wanted us to work on it together.”

“It’s not my fault we aren’t, Harvey.” Mike narrowed his eyes, though he kept his tone safely straddling the line between civil and bitter. “You told me I should work with a different partner. I didn’t want to. But then you—what you did to Sean, I…I couldn’t…” he shook his head viciously and hoped the thought would go with it. “I needed someone else to tell me what to do for a change.”

“Fair enough,” Harvey said, because it was all he trusted himself to say about the incident.

The elevator chirped _11\. 12. 13._ Mike looked at the wall, then his feet, stuffed his hands into his pockets and finally looked up again. “I heard Sean was here today. Threw your credit card at you or something.”

“That made it down to the forty-third floor already?”

“Started in the bullpen.”

They both shared a look before adding, in unison, “Louis,” and even sharing a brief laugh. Again they fell quiet, just the steady, smooth hum of the well-oiled lift, and the crisp alert of each story they rose past. _16\.  17. 18._ Harvey felt his stress coming back, in sharp, harsh jabs of both adrenaline and fatigue. He knew what he needed. Ultimately, he needed to win the case. But on a more instant-gratification level, he needed a drink – or three – and at least one round of really rough sex.

_21\. 22. 23._

“So.” Mike was the first to break the ice this time. He looked Harvey up and down in a mechanical sort of way. “You survived your self-imposed suspension.”

“How’d you know it was self-imposed?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Uh, because I’m not an idiot and it would take more than me getting slapped for Jessica to strike you with the iron fist. Plus… _I’m not an idiot.”_

Harvey swallowed hard and tried to draw the discussion to an end. “It’s fine, I’m back now,” he muttered, but Mike didn’t let it go quite as easily.

“You went stir crazy, didn’t you?” He sounded almost amused.

“What about…you know…the funeral? That was…”

Mike looked at him dumbly, not even a little fooled by the manufactured interruption. He knew Harvey was deflecting. “It was a funeral, Harvey. It was depressing.”

_29\. 30._

“Right. Did you meet his—” Harvey considered it was probably a stupid question, but by then he’d already asked.

“Wish I hadn’t.”

“That bad?”

“Worse,” Mike said grimly. He’d debated telling Harvey the truth – as close as he and Sean were to the man, Mike was still not entirely sure if he had the right to divulge something so personal on Sean’s behalf. Especially when Sean was so adamant about keeping Harvey’s skeletons a secret. But as the elevator continued its ascent, Mike felt an impulsive, protective feeling buzzing under his skin, much the same way he’d felt over the weekend, and he eventually succumbed to it. “You know they hit him, right?”

Harvey frowned, looking a little confused by the revelation.

“His parents,” Mike elaborated. “Well, his dad, anyway. Did it right in front of me, in fact.”

“ _What?”_

Mike wasn’t prepared for how surprised Harvey appeared – and sounded. He’d just assumed Harvey either knew, or wouldn’t consider it much of a leap from the horrible way Sean had already been emotionally treated by his parents. But there was more than a little hint of shock in the way Harvey’s mouth fell open, that told Mike, no – he hadn’t known.

“Please don’t tell him I told you,” Mike pleaded, feeling suddenly vulnerable, as though he’d crossed a line he shouldn’t have. There was no telling what Harvey might do with the information, either, though that was an entirely separate concern. “I just…thought you should know.”

Harvey nodded once, but said nothing, his jaw set, expression somewhere between _nauseated_ and _deadly_ and remained that way for the rest of the ride.

_41\. 42. 43._

When the elevator lurched gently, doors parting, Mike didn’t hesitate more than a second before stepping off. Harvey watched him take one stride onto the floor, and then impulsively blocked the doors from closing with his arm.

“What about tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, and a little urgent. He waited for Mike to turn around before continuing, “For us to talk? Or…Friday, when this case is wrapped up?”

“Maybe.” Mike shrugged. “Maybe Friday. I don’t know, Harvey…”

“Mike—” Frustrated, Harvey considered exiting the elevator altogether, but he forced himself to stay put. “There’s something—Sean wants me to—” he sighed, “He wants me to tell you something.”

“You two are getting married? Am I the best man? Because I’m flattered, really, but I don’t think—”

“Mike, Jesus Christ, don’t turn this into a joke—”

“It is a joke, Harvey.” Mike smiled, residual hostility seeping into the edges of his lips. “This whole thing is _literally_ a joke.” He tossed up his hands. “So, what? What does Sean want you to tell me? The big mystery about why you take a bullet for me behind the scenes, when Jessica threatens my career, but when we’re actually in the same room together, I don’t even feel like I’m a person? ‘Cause I can’t…Harvey, I can’t just guess what kind of trauma you went through. I have a good memory, but I’m not a psychic.”

Harvey’s expression softened. “I know. That’s why I want to tell you.”

“I...” Mike trailed off until a few people passed by and out of earshot. “I’ll find you when…when we’re done with this case.”

“Okay, then.”

“I really need those files before I leave tonight.”

“They’ll be ready,” Harvey assured him.

Mike nodded, lingering in place for a few more seconds. “I’ll see you around, Harvey,” he said finally, and then turned on his heel and walked away.

 

*


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful comments <3 I'm not sure how this chapter will go over, but...I wrote a timeline in the beginning (back when it was about half as long) and have been sticking pretty much to the original plan. There have been a few adjustments but for the most part this story ends up in the same place. Which I think works out. 
> 
> I don't want to trigger anyone, so this is a reminder that there's mentions of self-harm in this chapter as well as the next one. I'll continue to add tags as they become relevant.
> 
> And...I'll try not to take too long getting the last couple chapters written.

*

 

Harvey came home; key sliced through the lock, coffee started with a steaming hiss, files slapped onto the coffee table so he could peruse them after the caffeine kicked it. And none of it woke Sean, who was sound asleep down the hall with his face in a familiar pillow.

He’d been lying there weighing the potential consequences of skipping work – personal and financial – before dozing off without coming to any decision. Inaction won out and now, after eight p.m., it didn’t really matter. There was a dip in the bed and a hand in his hair before he even stirred.

 “Hey.”                        

“Oh…” Sean squinted a little. “Hey. Sorry, I just…”

“Mmhm. It’s okay.” Harvey’s voice was like a soft hum, a total three-sixty from his tone at the firm that morning. “I thought you had to work?”

“I, um…I didn’t feel good.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Physically, Sean felt okay, but emotionally he was still all kinds of fucked up. Now there’d be hell to pay tomorrow and not much pay at all on his actual paycheck.

When Harvey didn’t respond, just stood up and began taking off his jacket and tie, Sean sat up. “I’m sorry about today.” He wiped the remaining sleep from his eyes. “I was just…I know it’s stupid, and it was only a few days but I…I missed you.”

Above him, Harvey looked back, eyes gentle, carefully tugging his tie from its last loop, setting it on the bedside table along with his watch. It was a routine Sean was accustomed to by now; watching Harvey slowly lose the Pearson Hardman armor and reveal an actual, vulnerable human being who was half as bulletproof inside, and twice as tormented.

“Maybe I missed you too.”

Sean frowned as Harvey crawled across the bed and then kneeled on either side of him. “Maybe?”

“More or less.”

“What does that mean? Are you still…I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

“Sean, it’s okay.”

“It is?”

Harvey looked down at him, hoping the sympathy – or was it empathy? – wasn’t translating too conspicuously onto his face. He also knew he was throwing stones in a glass house, but the idea of anyone hitting Sean made his blood thicken; his fingers curl into fists of their own accord when he recalled what Mike had told him.

“I was trying to put some distance between us,” he explained, though he deliberately counteracted his words by lowering his mouth to Sean’s chest. “Is this Mike’s cologne?”

“He left it in my bag,” Sean told him absently, roaring on. “Distance because you and Mike are—”

“Because…” Harvey sighed. “I don’t know, Sean. But I try to keep my personal life out of the firm. It’s not because it’s you, okay?” Sean’s expression morphed back and forth between hurt and understanding, and Harvey kissed a soft line across his shirt to distract him. “Tell me again why you’re wearing Mike’s cologne?”

“I told you, he left it in my bag. And anyway, we share things, remember?”

“Yeah? What else do you share?”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Is that what you think about?”

“I don’t think about it.”

“Uh huh.”

“You said it, not me.”

“You were thinking it. Are you jealous?”

Harvey scoffed. “I don’t get jealous.” He ran his fingers through Sean’s hair again and regarded him fondly. “But I didn’t have…I never had what you two have. I had my brother but we…weren’t close. Neither of you tells me everything you tell each other.”

“That’s ‘cause most of the time we’re talking about you,” Sean reminded.  “Trust me, I wish we could go back to discussing other things we have in common.” He looked up at Harvey and shrugged, “Besides, it’s not like you’re ever in the mood to sit around and…discuss your feelings.”

Harvey smiled, a trace of regret somewhere in the lines, and kissed him. “Good point,” he admitted.

They laid there for several minutes, completely silent except for the soft, slightly-wet sound of their lips as they made out, leisurely, without either one of them vying for more. It was safe, and calm, and Harvey was impressed with his own self-control.

Sean, on the other hand, was perfectly content to spend the rest of the night like that; no pressure, no promises, no confronting of any problems. Hell, he’d tried to do just that today and it’d backfired miserably. He could use a few hours of pretending things weren’t quite so fucked up, even if it did mean embracing denial the same way he was embracing Harvey, with one hand behind his head and one arm curled across the broad span of his back.

Reality wasn’t easily denied though; even with Harvey’s tongue gently pressing inside his mouth, Sean still knew they were on borrowed time. One day Mike would be falling asleep here in the afternoon, face in a pillow that smelled like Harvey’s aftershave, and he’d be the one Harvey woke up with that killer smile and an expression that wasn’t just apologetic or forgiving, but one that said he’d never truly been angry with Mike in the first place.

So Sean knew he and Harvey were a house of cards; fine one minute, and then crashing down from the sharp gust of an argument the next. What he didn’t know was how to rearrange the deck in a way that saved both Mike and himself from getting hurt, and the longer he let things continue, the clearer the realization was that such a solution was in fact impossible. As Harvey kissed and kissed, Sean’s mind drew closer and closer to actualizing the truth.

Harvey was going to leave him. And it was going to hurt like hell when he did.

“What’s wrong?”

Smooth, warm words cracked the harrowing thought in two, but the pain had already settled.

“Nothing,” Sean lied. He knew Harvey wasn’t asking that generally; both of them were well aware of the elephant in the room, but for months they’d recklessly danced around it, sometimes slamming into corners of it that weren’t so soft, shouting and screaming until they were raw in the throat, then waking up in the morning inches apart like fighting was unheard of.

They couldn’t keep going that way, though. No one could.

But there was no perfect moment to talk about it, once and for all, and right now seemed particularly inconvenient. So Sean didn’t bring it up.

“You said something happened, in Jersey…” Harvey began. He slid off Sean and angled his body to face him. “If you still want to tell me—”

“No, no, it’s…not even a big deal.” Sean shook his head.

“Why don’t you let me decide that?”

Harvey’s confusion intensified when Sean laughed. It wasn’t a bitter sound, the one he might have expected if someone were trying to mitigate a personal trauma in order to better deal with it.

“Mike and I…we might have…we got drunk, okay? Like, really, really drunk and maybe…” Sean looked away. “Maybe we kissed.”

“You…That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You kissed Mike.” Harvey deadpanned, incredulous at the confession but not the act itself. “And that’s why you had to come running Code 3 into my office today?”

 _“No,”_ Sean replied. “I told you. I missed you. And it wasn’t just a…I had my tongue down his throat for like five minutes and also he—”

“Jesus Christ.” Harvey got off the bed and stood up straight in less than three fluid motions, smoothing the front of his dress shirt with one hand – a habit, Sean presumed – and running four fingers through his hair with the other. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Um…I don’t know?”

Harvey wasn’t sure why he was so flustered. Something to do with the image that popped up in his head, probably, because there was no denying it was a nice one. But it wasn’t that, not entirely, not even _partially._ And he wasn’t jealous, not of either one of them, not in the traditional sense, anyway. But both of them, _together,_ that close, without any signs that their friendship was worse for wear – no signs it wasn’t even _stronger_ than before, well, that was the kind of relationship Harvey had never had. The kind most people never had, he reasoned, but it still made him feel like he could have Sean or Mike a million times and still never have what Sean _and_ Mike had.

Taking a deep breath, he motioned out the bedroom door. “I’m making dinner. If you want some, feel free to come help.”

 

*

Sean felt wide awake after eating and indulging in enough caffeine to make Harvey shake his head in disapproval. Almost as bad as Mike’s habit, he observed, and that was saying something.

 _Jeopardy!_ played from the DVR in the background and Harvey could hear Sean rattling off the answers out loud like it was nothing. To himself, as he loaded the dishwasher, Harvey smiled.

Given their track record, that seemed like the appropriate time for everything to go to hell.

“Hey, is this a current case?” Sean was calling out from the living room, back turned as he leaned over the coffee table where Harvey had deposited his work earlier.

“What?”

“This case. Are you working on it now?”

Harvey wandered into the room, away from the sound of rushing water, so what Sean had asked could sink in. “Yeah. That’s…”

But Sean was already picking up the papers, vision trained on a particular paragraph.

For a few seconds, Harvey indulged him, watching him read silently, eyes scanning the words and numbers almost frantically, like he was seconds from a breakthrough, from finding the smoking gun; like he was _Mike._

“The numbers are off,” he said, sudden and certain. “If you look right—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harvey stepped forward and snatched the file roughly. “You shouldn’t even be reading that. It’s confidential.”

“But it was just laying out…”

“My mistake.”

“Harvey, I was just trying to help—”

“Don’t, okay?”

“If I was Mike, you’d let me—”

“Yeah, well, you’re not Mike are you, Sean?”

Shoulders sagging in defeat, Sean started to back up. “I know, Harvey. You _never_ let me forget that.” He leveled their eyes. “I know Mike knows you better and he makes you happier, okay? I get it. I know that I got into Columbia but he got into Harvard. And he’s younger than me and, like, a hundred times smarter than me and when you look at him you actually _see_ him, you don’t just think _slut.”_

They both winced, but Sean kept going, words streaming out in way that made it clear he’d been keeping them bottled up far longer than Harvey realized.

“I know I sold out and he didn’t, and I’m easy and he isn’t, and he’s a lawyer and I’m just a business major. But I _did_ graduate. With honors. I know a Ponzi scheme when I see one, Harvey. Those numbers don’t match the accounts at the end of the year. Your client was laundering.” He paused, not long enough for Harvey to interject, but long enough to take a breath and point to the file. “I know Mike’s working this case too. At least tell him so he doesn’t get screwed over if it this gets missed.”

It was cold silence after that, Harvey just staring, Sean treading the line between anger and tears until he finally crossed the room and stormed out, slamming the door hard behind him. It was then that Harvey flinched, blinked, and picked up the file to reexamine it.

And fifteen seconds later he was rushing off the elevator, through the doors of his building, and onto the sidewalk. Wintery air slammed into him and it still felt warmer than the atmosphere in his condo.

“Sean, stop!”

Sean wasn’t far away yet, several strides at best, and it was obvious he’d waited for Harvey to follow before giving up and starting to leave. He spun around and tossed up his hands. “What? You realized I was right and now you want me to look at the whole thing? Too late, Harvey. I’m not Mike, remember? I shouldn’t even be looking at your cases. It’s illegal. And you definitely wouldn’t want to do anything illegal.”

“Sean,” Harvey gritted his teeth. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Then what?”

“You were right. Okay? I was wrong to dismiss you or make you feel—”

“Dumb? Inadequate?” Sean scoffed. “Too late for that.”

“Come back up.”

“What?”

“Come inside, Sean.”

“Harvey, don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it. Just like I always do.”

“No, I’m serious. I want you to come back in.”

Sean rocked back on his heel and considered Harvey suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because I’m sorry. And it’s freezing out here. And…”

“And what?”

Harvey’s voice dropped. “I don’t want to go to bed alone,” he confessed.

There was about a minute between them, silent under the soft light of a street lamp except for the occasional passing car, and then, slowly, Sean approached. It was a tentative answer at first, but when Harvey extended his hand, Sean took it. He followed, betraying a thousand thoughts that ran through his head telling him _one more time_ would never be enough, and instead allowed himself to be lulled into the elevator by another singular one that just said, in a modest whisper, _I love him._

 

*

There had been a slight bruise on Sean’s cheek over the weekend, but by Monday it’d faded. Now, it was mostly invisible, except for when he’d stood alone in Harvey’s bathroom that afternoon. But the dimness of the hallway now, as he was wrestled back inside, cloaked any and all evidence that someone’s hand had ever even made that harsh contact with his skin. The soreness lingered, though. Nothing severe, in fact, nothing he even thought about during the day – too busy focusing on the emotional scars than the physical pain – but it was there, a residual ache in his cheek that he’d thought was completely healed until Harvey grabbed his jaw and his thumb dug into that area.

“Ow!”

“Sorry.” Harvey was already breathing hard, pushing Sean hurriedly toward the bedroom.

“It’s okay,” Sean said quickly, hoping Harvey wouldn’t pick up on how disproportionate his reaction had been. 

But he did, pulling his mouth away from Sean’s jaw to look at him, concerned, and ask, “How bad does it hurt?”

“What?”

Harvey brushed the spot on Sean’s cheek, this time with the gentle tips of his fingers, just barely grazing the skin. “Where he—”

Sean’s eyes hardened. “Mike told you?”

“Yeah. What? Why wouldn’t he?”

“Um, I don’t know, because it’s none of your business,” Sean snapped, writhing out of Harvey’s grip in the doorway.

“Hey,whoa.” Harvey’s hand shot out, grasping Sean’s wrist and tugging him back in. “He was looking out for you, Sean.”

“Well, I didn’t ask him to.”

 “And I didn’t ask for the information, either. But now that I have it, you can be damn sure I’m gonna do something about it.”

“What?” Sean laughed dryly and wrenched out of Harvey’s arms again, backing up. “You’re gonna slap my father with a civil suit? Or just beat the shit out of him? Will that even the score? Will I get a year of my life back?”

_“Sean…”_

“No, Harvey! I don’t need your...your hypocritical, vigilante justice! I need you to let me leave this in the past!”

 “Hypocritical?”

“Yeah.” Sean held his ground, though his eyes watered and his voice cracked helplessly. “I stood up to you when you hit Mike, but I did it for him, _not_ for my ego. Not because I thought I owned him and it pissed me off that someone else touched my property. Which is what you’re turning this into!”

“You are way off, kid,” Harvey said quietly. He shook his head, punctuated each word with the gentle gesticulation of his hand. “I am nothing like your father, Sean.”

“I _know_ that, Harvey!” Sean shouted, back to the windows, crying freely now. “Why the fuck do you think I’m with you?! Why the fuck do you think I love you? You’re _nothing_ like him!” Gasping, he clawed the tears off his face and started to frantically make his way toward the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?”

“I need your computer.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna drop out, gonna get you your six thousand dollars back—”

Harvey grabbed him around the waist, dragging him back over the threshold of the room. “No, you’re not, Sean, Jesus Christ! Listen to what you’re saying! You’re not dropping out of grad school after all this!” He shook his shoulders once, but Sean just stared back with bleary, angry, heartbreakingly-familiar blue eyes.

“After all _what,_ Harvey? After all the money you put into it?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Sean. You have _one_ year left!”

“Stop yelling in my face!”

 _“Sorry—_ sorry—”

“A year’s a lot longer to me than it is to you, Harvey,” Sean sniffled, using his palm as a wedge to distance himself from Harvey’s body. “It’s not winning a new case every week, having everyone look up to you, calling all the shots. I know Harvard was a hundred years ago, but there’s studying and exams and pressure and stress and that’s before I have to figure out how many hours I can work or whether or not I can afford to eat.”

“Look at me,” Harvey ordered. He gently steered Sean’s face toward his. “I know that. Okay? But you are not throwing three years of school away because of what he did to you.”

“I only went to grad school in the _first_ place because of him, Harvey. I thought it would make him love me and it didn’t, it didn’t do _shit,_ it didn’t change a fucking thing. So I quit. I _quit.”_

“No, you’re not quitting, Sean. You might have gone back to school for your parents but you stayed in for yourself. And if you stop now, I’m telling you, you’re going to regret it. I’m gonna get you through this year, and next, if it’s the last thing I do. Understand?”

Reluctantly, Sean nodded, and continued nodding as Harvey cradled each side of his jaw and carefully swept away the remaining tears with the lightest possible pressure.

“It’s okay,” Harvey whispered, walking them both toward the bed, letting himself stumble back to sit on the edge before pulling Sean into his lap and repeating, “It’s okay.  It’s okay.”

Sean buried his face against Harvey’s shoulder, sighing hot air against the skin there, wrapping his arms around Harvey’s neck and planting his legs around Harvey’s waist, plastering himself as close as molecularly possible to the other man.

Strong hands slid up his back, over and over, massaging him through his shirt until finally skin met skin and Harvey was yanking the shirt up and off before throwing it on the floor. Sitting back, Sean worked furiously at the buttons on Harvey’s shirt, desperate to reveal the tanned, toned stomach underneath it, so he could run his hands up and down and pretend he’d always have this opportunity; like it wasn’t permanently slipping away with every passing minute.

“Stand up,” Harvey breathed, nudging Sean off his lap, expertly undoing the button on his jeans and pulling them down without even bothering to unzip. Fingers slid into the creases at Sean’s hips, and Harvey tugged his underwear off a little slower, enjoying the way it revealed smooth, slightly-paler skin than was already exposed. Pale like Mike, he noticed, not for the first time. Sean’s stomach dipped in the same place, too, although just before it tipped toward _hungry,_ his skin took on the faint outline of muscle. It hadn’t been anything Sean had planned, just a semester or two he’d actually made use of the campus gym, and his efforts simply hadn’t yet faded.

With a light shove to Harvey’s chest, Sean had him falling backwards, hitting the bed softly, his eyes following every movement of Sean’s hands as they began to methodically undo his belt, like he was too turned on, too _present,_ to focus on what it symbolized. But it was off soon enough, out of sight, out of mind, and Sean was preoccupied with wrestling each of Harvey’s legs out of his pants and boxers.

“Success!” he exclaimed, when Harvey was finally naked, and it earned him an eye roll and the slightest hint of a smile.

It was childish, but endearing, and Harvey was back to picturing Mike, wondering when, exactly, he’d started fucking a child, someone who treated foreplay like a game show but looked so fucking good doing it; when he’d started fucking a twenty-three year old.

Wait, no. Twenty-six. Sean was twenty-six.

Harvey shut his eyes for a second, and then pulled Sean on top of him, pressed a long, hard kiss to his mouth. When he felt Sean melt into him, Harvey immediately wanted more, pushing his tongue up and into Sean’s mouth, all the way in, until Sean was pushing back and moaning, his hands struggling to keep Harvey’s face still, to make it a fair fight.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, once they’d come up for air, and he was resting on his forearms, their faces inches apart.

The question caught Harvey off guard, but he recovered beautifully, answering with a graceful, earnest, “You,” as he carded his fingers through Sean’s hair, mentally noting the exact number of shades lighter it was from Mike’s. _About two,_ he decided.

But Sean wasn’t oblivious enough to the way Harvey was looking at him to buy that answer. Solemnly, he slid onto his side, letting his fingers trail a path down Harvey’s stomach, alongside the coarse patch of hair at his crotch, and lower still, down to his thighs, where his hands cautiously stilled – along with Harvey’s breathing.

“Sean—”

“Sshhh.” Sean ran one finger at a time over the raised, blurred lines of skin decorating the length of Harvey’s thigh, from his groin to just above his knees, nearly identical on either side, like an ironic dose of OCD to balance out the self-loathing. But more than ten, twenty, thirty, forty; more than a hundred scars said it hadn’t worked.

It reminded Harvey of day one, back in the hotel, Sean’s fingers on those tortured parts of his body he’d never let anyone else see twice. Only now the touch was sweeter, less shocked; Sean’s gaze accepting, less questioning.

“Remember—”

Harvey cut him off. “Yeah.” He had a feeling Sean was trying to lure him back there, to that place, that time, where it was only them. Before either of them had known that the other knew Mike even existed.

“You were thinking about Mike.” Sean didn’t say it like an accusation. It fell out of his mouth like a sad observation, and when Harvey looked up at his face, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Sean look so wounded since the entire situation had come to light.

Guilt hit him like dead weight, because this kid knew everything about him – the damning things, anyhow – and could have destroyed him, but hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Not for spite, not for anything. He had every reason to hurt Harvey back, but instead, he’d kept his secrets, carried his torch, gave everything and asked for so little in return.

“I wasn’t—” Harvey started, but stopped. Sean deserved more than another lie. “Sometimes it just happens. But now, right now, I’m thinking about you and I want—” He reached his hand up, slid it around Sean’s neck and pulled in down into a deep, forceful kiss. “You know what I want.”

Sean didn’t cave so easily. He straddled Harvey again, this time low enough and hard enough that their erections lined up, pressed against the other, and they both sucked in a sharp breath at the same time when they felt the contact. “I know how to make you stop thinking about Mike,” he announced bravely, intentionally grinding down until Harvey muttered a string of expletives and jerked his hips up.

“Sean,” he growled. “I told you I’m not—”

“You’ll fuck him, I’m sure,” Sean interrupted recklessly, trying to control the arousal in his voice. “And he’ll be so good for you, I know he will. His mouth is—well, all I can really attest to are his kissing skills but I can tell. Plus, I bet he’s really tight—” Sean paused, ducking away from Harvey’s hand when it tried to drag him into a silencing kiss. “I used to think him and Trevor were a thing and I— _ah—_ I think maybe, but not…all the way, so— _unh—”_

Harvey dug his nails into Sean’s hips, keeping them rocking into his, just enough for the friction, but not enough for either of them to come. “You think— _fuck—_ Mike’s a virgin?”

“Accidentally,” Sean replied. “And then he met you and— _uh_ —what I’m saying is, you’ll fuck him one day, like you always wanted to, and I’m sure he’ll do whatever you— _God—_ want him to, but, there will always be that…one…thing…”

“What, Sean, what?”

“One thing you only do with me, because he’d never ask for it, he’d never want—never _need_ it. I can say it and you won’t think about him at all, I promise.”

Harvey stared up, eyes dark, but curious. He tried not to take the bait, shifting up for more pressure, only to have Sean twist away.

“Or you just call me a slut. You’d definitely only think of me then.”

“Okay.” Harvey gave in, could see the answer in Sean’s crystal clear blue eyes as easily as he could hear it, feel it, remember it. Not the last few times, but before that, and particularly back at the hotel, where it had become a _thing_ surprisingly fast. Though they hadn’t really discussed the reasons, Harvey decided after today, everything made even more sense than before.

“Okay?”

“You think I don’t know what it is, brat?”

Sean smirked, and it lasted a second, maybe two, before he was being pushed up toward the headboard and flipped onto his stomach. Fingers pressed into back of his knees, nudging them up, his legs open.

“I haven’t heard it yet,” Harvey said impatiently, his hands running over the smooth globes of Sean’s ass. He spread his cheeks, took in the view, and then brought his palm down hard on the skin. Sean yelped, but it wasn’t what Harvey was waiting for. “Well?”

“Make me.”

“What?”

“If you want me to say it, _make me.”_

“Be a smartass and I won’t fuck you,” Harvey threatened. “Besides, you said yourself, you need it. You love to say it. Don’t you?”

Sean waited it out though, barely, but long enough that Harvey couldn’t just kneel between his legs looking at his perfect ass and his perfect, tight hole without aching to taste it. With both palms spreading him open, Harvey dipped down and licked up the length of Sean’s crack, down, back up, over and over, wet and hot and still not even close to being done.

Finally, Sean broke, a series of gasps taking the place of his strained silence. “Oh, fuck, okay okay okay wait I wanna see you,” he whimpered. “Please.”

“Hurry up,” Harvey told him, sitting up just long enough for Sean to roll on his back, and to shove a pillow under his hips, before he was leaning back in and pulling Sean’s legs up over his shoulders. He resumed licking, this time pausing just at the entrance, swirling his tongue until the moans started to pour from Sean’s mouth, right on cue.

“Uh, _fuck,”_ he breathed, his back arching a little. _“Daddy.”_

It didn’t sound stupid or fake or rehearsed, or – even after Sean’s elaborate scheme to somehow derail Harvey’s fantasies about Mike – planned. It was impulsive and desperate and _hot_ and it incited Harvey to step it up, though not before lifting his head once to grin. “There it is,” he said.

“Please,” Sean begged, reaching down to twist his hand into Harvey’s hair, guiding him down again and then trying to pull him closer, trying to push himself back against his mouth. But Harvey knew exactly what he was up to, and he quickly clamped his forearm over Sean’s hips.

“Stay still, sweetheart.”

“I— _ahh—can’t,_ though.”

Harvey laughed, running his free hand up over Sean’s leg. It was like going down on a contortionist the way the kid was writhing and twisting and shaking. “I could do this to you forever and you’d just go insane, wouldn’t you, baby?”

“Daddy, I need— _uhh—”_

“Need what?” Harvey looked up from between’s Sean’s legs, lips slick, tongue running over them in slow, calculated motion.

“Fuck, fuck me, fuck me,” Sean babbled, looking at Harvey over his own heaving chest. Fingers still twisted in Harvey’s hair, he pulled harder this time, until Harvey eventually assented, crawling up the length of Sean’s body until he found his mouth.

“You taste so good,” he whispered, “But you’re so impatient.”

“Just fuck me now. Please?”

“Demanding,” Harvey murmured, placing a hard kiss on his lips.

“I just want you,” Sean whined. He slid both hands behind Harvey’s neck, holding him close.  “I love you so much.”

“Mm.”

It wasn’t the response Sean wanted, but he would’ve been surprised to hear anything else. Still, he decided it was a win in and of itself that Harvey hadn’t told him not to say it in the first place. Cautiously victorious, he reached across the bed in the direction of the nightstand.

“I got it, kid,” Harvey told him, swatting Sean’s hand away. He leaned to the side and fished around in the drawer for several seconds before finding the bottle of lube – mostly empty, but sufficient enough for tonight – and squeezed what remained into his hands.

Sean was looking up, eyes a little glazed but still focused on Harvey’s face. He leaned up to kiss him once before letting his head fall back against the pillow, following the movements of Harvey’s hands as they trailed lower, fingers slick and probing.

“Ah, _ah.”_ Sean’s breath hitched sharply and he grabbed a fistful of the sheets.

“Too much?” Harvey asked, pressing two fingers inside and letting them catch the rim of Sean’s hole as he dragged them out.

“Not…enough.”

“Good. You look so handsome, Sean. You ready?”

Sean nodded wildly and let his knees fall open, holding his breath when he felt Harvey’s cock nudging at his entrance. “Yes,” he gasped, when he couldn’t go any longer without oxygen and Harvey was sliding into him like every time before rolled into one, minus the thoughts of money and school and their time running out. It still felt like Harvey was leaving, and the faster he thrust inside, the sooner he’d be gone, and Sean wanted to slow him down, draw this out as long as physically possible. But he didn’t, just grabbed Harvey’s biceps and bit his own lip and held on tight.

“Sean…” Harvey collapsed onto his forearms and spoke directly into his ear. “You feel so fucking good, I…”

Closing his eyes, Sean had the passing thought that he’d never been called _Mike_ in bed, which was either a testament to Harvey’s self-restraint, or Sean had in fact outgrown the role as a stand-in for the unrealistic fantasies that idealized Mike; that made him everything: associate, genius, boyfriend, protégé – without ever disrupting the order of Harvey’s life.

Sean couldn’t analyze it long enough to determine if it was actually a good thing, but he was glad Harvey’s concentration was solely on him at the moment, hips rocking forward and up with force, hitting his prostate every other thrust until Sean was digging his nails into Harvey’s muscles and quietly chanting.

_“Daddy…daddy…daddy…”_

Harvey wasn’t thinking too far ahead when he tipped Sean’s head back and sucked a hard bruised on his throat. A surge of possessiveness had struck him and he couldn’t see beyond what he was doing, what he was feeling, or the words Sean was saying. “Mm, what, baby?”

“I need… _oh god…_ more, please—”

“Yeah?” Harvey lifted his head and looked down, arching an eyebrow, his voice low and thick with lust. “You need Daddy to fuck you harder?”

Sean swallowed hard. “Yes, yes, _yes, please,”_ he begged, with a lot of impatience and a tiny bit of petulance that didn’t go unnoticed. Harvey picked up on it, punishing him briefly by slowing down to a torturously ineffective pace before speeding up, snapping his hips forward in quick succession.

“I’m so—” Sean reached between their bodies to stroke himself, but Harvey snatched his wrist in one hand and pinned it over his head.

“No, no, no, no, don’t do that. I’m…so… _fuck…_ I’m so close but…gonna make you come first, I promise—okay?”

Eyes glassy, Sean replied with a dazed nod of his head, letting Harvey guide his other hand up into the same grip until he couldn’t even twist his wrists at all. He wrapped his legs around Harvey’s back, squeezing tight, and Harvey took the hint.

“Deeper?”

“Uh, _yes.”_

“Like… _this?”_

 _“Fuck!”_ Desperate for friction, Sean tried to grind his cock up against Harvey’s stomach, but Harvey’s weight gave him little room to move, and he ended up more frustrated than before, fighting to free himself of the restraint formed by Harvey’s tight hold.

Struggling to keep himself just off the edge, Harvey closed his eyes tight, opening them only when he’d regained a shred of control. He stared down at Sean who was looking up, face flushed and damp, mouth open, abandoning all the wild bids for control and just letting Harvey move as he pleased, trusting him to give him exactly what he needed the instant Sean couldn’t handle waiting a second longer.

Unsurprisingly, Harvey dragged him right up to that second, fucking him hard and deep, exactly the way Sean had begged. Hard enough to make his mind go quiet. Hard enough to make him forget that he didn’t belong here, not in any long-term sense of the word, regardless of any occasion – like now – when he’d wondered if maybe, _maybe_ he did.

At the end of the day, though, he was filling a void. And Harvey had always been doing the same for him, in a paternal, hedonistic sort of way that was probably a little unconventional and a little more fucked up.

“Oh _god, oh fuck, fuck, Harvey!”_ He arched underneath Harvey as much as he could, all of his muscles tightening, clenching down, holding Harvey inside him while he completely came undone, keening and whining and panting the same inappropriate mantra – _“Unh fuck, daddy”–_ into Harvey’s mouth over and over.

Harvey was gorgeous when he was steeled and buttoned up in a three-piece suit, but Sean knew there were few versions hotter than when Harvey was breathless on top of him, moaning words that sounded like a muffled variation of _fuck yes_ and _Sean_ and _finally_ and _perfect,_ lips parted, letting Sean talk and breathe right into his mouth.

“Good?” he asked, tone intentionally smug.

Sean laughed, and when his hands were released, he brought them up to cradle Harvey’s face. “Yeah,” he said, lifting his head just enough brush their lips together. Then he kissed Harvey’s cheek, his forehead, and down to his lips again; too chaste and sentimental for their non-relationship and its likely very bleak outlook, but Sean did it anyway. _Needed_ to do it.

Harvey didn’t pull away, just shut his eyes and ran his hands up and down Sean’s body as they both recovered. After a few minutes, he rolled off onto his back with a contented sigh, slipping his arm around Sean’s neck and silently inviting him closer.

“I’m sticky,” Sean mumbled, snuggling up to Harvey’s neck. “Shower.”

“Give me a minute, Columbia, will you? Some of us weren’t born in the nineties.”

“Eighties, Harvey, I was born in the eighties. You’re confusing me with Mike. Again.”

“I…” Harvey sighed. “Fuck. Sorry.”

Sean just rolled his eyes and nuzzled in a little more, slid one arm over Harvey’s chest and rested his head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, he could feel the sweat drying under his hand, and he felt Harvey’s heart beating slow and steady. He thought they might fall asleep like that, completely unprepared, skin not rinsed, sheets not changed, light still on, hardly past ten o’clock. And they might have, if it weren’t for the two insistent knocks that echoed from outside the room and cut through the stillness like a wake up call delivered at exactly the right moment.

Sean swore Harvey winced, but if that was the case, he played it off by merely shifting a bit and making the slightest sound of acknowledgement.

Two knocks became two more, and then a slightly-muffled but familiar and very annoyed voice called out. “Harvey! I know you’re home! Goddamn it. I need the Winston files and Donna said you didn’t leave anything with her!”

There was a beat of silence and then Harvey was untangling himself from Sean, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed almost frantically. “Shit!” he hissed. “Goddamn it.”

“What? Harvey—”

“I was supposed to leave those reports on my desk,” he explained, grabbing his pants off the floor and looking at his watch. “About two hours ago. Where is my shirt?”

“Behind you,” Sean told him. “You have come on your chest.”

“Hence the shirt,” Harvey replied sarcastically, jamming his arms into the sleeves. “Stay here.”

He left the room before Sean could protest.

 

*

Mike was mid-knock when Harvey pulled the door open and startled him. “Oh—hey. Sorry, were you asleep?”

“Not for a lack of trying,” Harvey lied, although he knew Mike was already sizing him up – already noticing he was still in his suit pants, sans shoes and belt, shirt buttoned all wrong and cuffs rolled up in haste. His hair was a mess too, he was sure of it, if the way Sean had run his hands through it earlier was any indication.

Mike looked at him like he knew, but he didn’t say he knew. “I went by your office. Donna said the last time she saw the financial reports for the Winston case, they were in your hands.”

For a few seconds, Harvey didn’t answer. His mind was buzzing for a way out of the situation, gaze landing on Mike’s suit and then his hair and then his eyes. He looked tired, but focused, determined to see the case through and Harvey could almost feel every single trick of the trade he’d taught Mike, all slotting together with Mike’s already-brilliant mind to create the best lawyer Harvey had ever seen, other than himself. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

“Harvey.” Mike’s voice snapped him out his daze. “I really need them tonight.”

“Yeah. Right, sorry. I’ll…I’ll go get—” Before Harvey could turn though, Mike was pushing gently inside and shutting the door behind them. Just like he used to, no questions asked.

“I can just look at them here,” he announced. “Last time I took work home I spilled a beer on it and you yelled at me for a week.” 

Harvey would’ve laughed if his pulse wasn’t racing. He led Mike into the living room and motioned toward the coffee table. With a deep breath, Mike sat down and pulled the folders toward him like it was a brain feast.

“Actually—” Harvey opened his mouth, but the sharp chirp of his cell phone from across room interrupted him. He excused himself with a shrug, left Mike to dive into the papers, and padded over to the counter.

[11:34pm] Sean: _I’m taking a shower.  
_ [11:34pm] Harvey: _You can’t wait 15 minutes?  
_ [11:34pm] Sean: _No  
_ [11:35pm] Harvey: _Seriously?  
_ [11:35pm] Sean: _Sue me._

Clenching his jaw, Harvey silenced his phone and slipped it into his pocket. As soon as he reappeared in the living room, he heard the stifled roar of the water down the hallway. Mike’s eyes darted up at him, then toward the bedroom, and then back down at his work as if he’d never glanced away.

“Mike—”

Mike held up his hand, scanning a page intently while comparing it to another one. “Hold on. Do you have a calculator? Wait, I can use my phone—”

“Mike, I—”

Suddenly, Mike stood up, grappling with the papers that threatened to spill everywhere. “Nevermind. I think I will just take them home. It’ll be easier that way and then you can just…” His tone soured when he nodded toward the hall. “…Go back to sleep.”

He brushed roughly past Harvey and made a beeline toward the door.

“Mike, _come_ on!” Harvey called, his voice strained.

Mike stopped dead and spun around. “If you didn’t want me here, you could’ve just fucking told me, instead of standing there looking at your watch, trying to think of some lie to get me to leave!” He kicked Sean’s backpack where it rested in the hallway, and lowered his voice until it sounded as defeated as he felt. “This is the first thing I saw when you opened the door, Harvey. I’m not an idiot.”

Several yards away, with his hands tight and tense in his pockets now, Harvey just stared and swallowed.

“But I’m capable of being in the same building as both of you and not making a scene,” Mike continued. “It’s not my business, right? I wasn’t gonna say anything about it. I was just—gonna look at the case and…” He trailed off, biting his lip like doing so had the power to stave off any impending emotion.

“Mike, I’m sorry…”

“I need…” There were more words bubbling up, vying for freedom, and Mike was desperate to finally voice a request he’d been holding inside for too long. Whether Harvey would honor it was an entirely different story, but it had to be said. “I need to ask you something.”

Harvey studied him for a few seconds and then made a _go ahead_ gesture with his hand. “Alright.”

“Don’t make him choose.”

“What?”

“Sean.” Mike shifted, not far from the door, a part of him wondering if this was the last time he would ever walk out of Harvey’s condo. “I love him. And I don’t…Harvey, I don’t have any other friends. Most of the time I don’t feel like I even have you anymore. Like we’re not friends…I don’t know, maybe we never were—”

Harvey wanted to cut him off, tell him he was wrong. They _were_ friends. Weren’t they? But in lieu of interrupting, he just stood quietly, trying to digest the things Mike was telling him; things that sounded an awful like old wounds.

“So he’s the only person I can talk to about anything. And you…you could take him from me in a heartbeat and I—I can’t blame him for that because I know what it’s like to be in love with you.” Mike paused, glancing at his shoes and then bravely into Harvey’s eyes. “We don’t want to leave our friends in the past, but you make them sound like they’re not even our friends at all, so we do. We get…we get this tunnel vision, all we can see is Harvey Specter, and we get isolated but we don’t care because we fucking love you. But then—” He stopped, face contorting in pain. “Then you rip the floor out from under us. We find out you don’t love us back, at least, not as much. Not the same as we love you. But it’s too late, ‘cause we already left everyone else. I know that feeling, Harvey, ‘cause you did that to me.”

“What?” Harvey frowned and took a measured step forward, sounding more hurt than accusing. “When did I—”

“You took me away from Trevor,” Mike explained, blinking at the wetness in his eyes but still keeping his gaze locked on Harvey, as difficult as that was. “You took me away when he needed me and you made me think he was the bad guy. You made me think I didn’t need him, Harvey, but I _did._ I _did_ need him. And I left him anyway because you told me to, and all I cared about was what you told me. Well now…now I need Sean.”

“Mike, what are you asking me?”

“I’m asking you not to make him choose between you and me because...” Mike sniffled, and a small, caustic laugh seeped through. “Harvey, you know…fuck. You know I’ll lose.”

Neither of them said anything else for a long, tense moment. The only sound was the steady rush of the water from far inside the bathroom down the short hallway, and Mike wasn’t sure if it was that, or the silence between him and Harvey that was responsible for the hole he felt being bore into his skull.

“Let’s look at those reports,” Harvey suggested, cautiously moving a little further in Mike’s direction. When he reached him, he gently tugged the files from Mike’s hand. “I, uh...I missed something.”

Mike eyed him skeptically. _“You_ missed something?”

“I would’ve caught it eventually.” Harvey looked from him to the couch and then back with hopeful, pleading brown eyes. “Sit?”

The background water stopped abruptly. There was a distant cough, silence, and then the click of a door. Mike hesitated. “Um. I should probably just go.”

“I want you to stay.”

“Why?”

“I need your help,” Harvey admitted. “Are you hungry?”

Mike wanted to say no, but he was. It was a thirty minute commute home, where he’d inevitably be alone, it was cold outside, and his stomach ached at the prospect of food. He relented. “Yeah…kinda.”

“Good, ‘cause I made way too much food.” Harvey wandered into the kitchen, looking over his shoulder to make sure Mike followed. “I can make something fresh, though, it wouldn’t take me very l—”

“I’m good with leftovers,” Mike said. When Harvey looked back, appearing somewhat nervous, he gave him a weak but present smile and added, “Really, Harvey. It’s okay.”

“Alright.” Harvey went about heating up the food while Mike repossessed the file, leaned against the counter and began to read.

“What exactly did you say you missed? Or are you just going to wait until I find it so you don’t have to tell me?” When all he received in response was a noncommittal sound and the clanging of a plate, Mike looked down at the paper, smirked and shook his head. “Harvey Specter is fallible. Alert the media.”

“Like I said,” Harvey commented. “I would’ve caught it sooner later.”

“Really?”

Mike turned around at the sound of a voice that could’ve been his, but wasn’t, not quite. Sean was casually making his way around the room, stopping to lean slightly across the other side of the counter on his elbows. He gave Harvey a look that Mike found difficult to read.

“Would you have? Caught it?”

Harvey had turned around now too, eyes still trained on Sean as he handed Mike a plate of food and muttered, “Careful, it’s hot.”

Mike accepted it, feeling like he was in the middle of something personal and a little prickly. But after a beat, Harvey just looked away from Sean and sighed. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced, pointing to the file. “Why don’t you two take a look at that?”

Mike and Sean answered in unison, “Us?”

“Sure.” Harvey shrugged. “An extra set of fresh eyes is probably a good idea.” He gave them both singular nod and disappeared down the hallway.

Heretofore, things had always become exponentially awkward for Sean and Mike when Harvey _entered_ the room. Tonight, however, the level of discomfort after he actually left was almost palpable. Mike stood, rigid, eating quietly, while Sean remained leaning over the counter, pretending to concentrate on a place in the marble.

Eventually, Sean cracked under the pressure. 

“Maybe we should talk about it.”

Between mouthfuls, Mike scoffed. “Okay,” he said, his tone very dry. “You fell in love with Harvey. Now you don’t know which way is up. Welcome to the club.” He made a wounded sound and tried to cover it up by letting his fork fall onto his plate with a clang.

Sean stiffened. “I meant what happened in Jersey.”

“…Oh.” Mike’s face went hot and pink with embarrassment at the memory, and he kept his back turned, relieved Sean couldn’t see it written all over his face. “Yeah, um…sorry about that.”

They hadn’t seen one another since getting back in town, and the logical part of Mike knew it was only because he’d been swamped with the Winston case and Sean was struggling to catch up in the classes he’d missed. By the time they’d normally hang out, late in the evening, they were both neck deep in work and running on more caffeine than sleep.

Still, part of Mike wondered if he’d played a role in what felt like a cold loss of contact by having drunkenly begged Sean to fuck him. It was the modifier he’d pinned on his request that complicated it; that took it from a liquor-induced literal of slip of the tongue that they could laugh about, to a painfully-honest admission of how deep his jealousy and his insecurity truly ran.  _Harvey. I wanna know what it’s like. How he fucks you._

What Sean couldn’t tell him was, _you don’t want me to fuck you like he fucks me._ Because his relationship with Harvey wasn’t built on trust and banter and professional successes, but on despair and complexes and decade-old wounds that had scabbed but never healed. It worked in a way that didn’t actually work at all. Sean clawed silently at his conscience because he knew it was finally time to tell Mike why.

“Wanna sit down?” he asked. His fingers crept across the smooth surface toward the file. “I’ll show you pages where your client goes from upstanding exec to—”

Mike turned quickly and set his plate down. “Harvey let you look at this?”

“No.” Sean laughed. “I just did.”

“You got in trouble,” Mike observed, trying not to grin.

“Maybe. But now I know all this time in school hasn’t been _completely_ for nothing. He nodded toward the living room. “Come on.”

Mike followed, but not before stopping on his way out of the kitchen to get a soda, wincing at the realization that he’d done this dozens of times before, but tonight felt brazen and a little out of line opening the refrigerator without permission – and when had that happened? Shoving the thought away, he grabbed a can and hurried into the living room.

 

*

“I can’t believe this!” Mike pushed the work away with a little disgust. “I’ve been working with Reeves for one week and I already almost fucked up!”

Beside him, Sean leaned back on the couch. “You didn’t fuck up, Mike,” he said. “You would’ve found this is ten seconds if you’d had the file. You know it, I know it, and I’m sure Reeves knows it. There’s a reason she jumped at the opportunity to work with you.”

“Only until we close this, though. Her associate comes back on Monday. We’re supposed to be done with this case by then—” Mike made an offhand gesture to the file, “—and after this revelation we’ll probably be done a lot sooner than that. Anyway, after he comes back I guess I’m a free agent, huh?”

“Are you ever gonna work with Harvey again?”

“I don’t know. I could hardly stand being in an elevator with him today without, like, waiting for lightning.”

Sean afforded him a weak smile, but ultimately the joke fell flat under the weight of the status quo. There was the hum of water still audible in the background, and it reminded Sean that Harvey was out of earshot, but not for long. He decided he’d given him more than enough opportunities to tell Mike the truth, and Harvey had never taken advantage of any of them.

“Mike, I need to tell you something,” he began. He still stood by the belief that it wasn’t his secret to share, but he’d run out of ways to pretend he didn’t know. And this was _Mike._ He’d understand, whether Harvey believed he would or not.

“If it’s an apology, you can keep it,” Mike said, though his words were soft. “I didn’t expect you to just cut ties with him because I got wasted and wore my heart on my sleeve again.”

“It isn’t that.”

“Oh.”

“I mean…” Sean shook his head. “I am sorry. For everything. But I need to tell you what he won’t.”

“Is this about—”

“Yeah.”

Mike sat up a little straighter. “You said he’d tell me in his own time and he hasn’t. He keeps saying he wants to talk to me but when I’m around…he doesn’t say anything.”

“I know.”

“So tell me, Sean,” he urged.

Finding a little more courage somewhere inside, and trying his hardest to ignore the budding guilt inside him, Sean took a shaky breath and gave in. “You know how my parents were really shitty?” When Mike nodded, he continued, “Well, so were his. Not…not in the exact same way, but, well, I think he had it worse, actually and he…uh…”

“What?”

“Look, I only had to go through what I went through for about a year. After that, I mean, I still dealt with all the shit they said to me but at least I didn’t live there, you know? So I had work and college and stuff to…help me cope, I guess. And I told my brother what happened, eventually. Sometimes I think that’s why he started using but…” Sean shuddered at the possibility but forged on. “Anyway, the whole point is…Harvey didn’t have anyone else. To tell, I mean. His brother was too young, he couldn’t really lean on him. So I guess…he didn’t have a lot of ways to cope. So…he started to cut himself—”

Mike’s response was a shocked, pitched whisper. “What? But I’ve never seen—”

“He did it here,” Sean specified, patting his own thighs. He flinched at the image in his head, and in the emotion of their discussion, neither of them noticed when the shower turned off. “It’s really bad, Mike, but he said it got him through it so I…”

“I don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me this. Why wouldn’t he _tell_ me this?” Mike swiveled a bit, his voice pained, eyes a little glassy. “I tell him _everything—_ Sean, I tell him everything about me!”

“He was scared, Mike.”

“Of what?”

“What you’d think,” Sean replied, shrugging. “You know, that he was weak or…that it was stupid. That you might not understand it, or he’d lose your respect. But mostly I think he was afraid that you wouldn’t look up to him anymore.”

“But I’d never—”

“I know. That’s why I thought you deserved to know.”

Mike grimaced, using his palms to wipe the wetness from his eyes. “What, uh…” he cleared his throat. “What did they do to him?”

Sean paled at the question, tensing, feeling like he’d already divulged more than he’d really had a right to except under technicalities and rules of friendship that he’d really just invented on the spot to justify himself. “Mike…” he said quietly, hesitating. “Maybe you should just talk to him.”

“Sean, come on, you’re the one who brought it up!”

“It’s his story, Mike. I mean, there’s parts I don’t even know, okay?”

“Then tell me what you do know,” Mike insisted.

“Mike, if I tell you he’ll kill me.”

“Tell him what, Sean?” Harvey voice cut in, loud and sharp like the treble was turned all the way up. He was emerging from the hallway in a white tee, sweatpants, and damp hair, and he looked confused and a little angry. His eyes darted suspiciously between them both, but ultimately zoned in on Sean.

“What were you talking about?”

“Uh, nothing,” Sean lied, not very well, squirming in his seat.

Harvey stared him down but Sean looked away, so after a few seconds Harvey shifted his gaze toward Mike, who only glanced back with nervous and slightly-teary eyes. It was telling enough.

“You should leave, Sean.” Harvey appeared a little defenseless without the angled corners of his three-piece suits, but his tone was still deadly and certain. “Now.”

Sean stood up, and for the second time that night, they shared a look that Mike couldn’t decipher, so he just sat on the couch digging his nails into the cushion. After a minute, Harvey disappeared back into his bedroom and slammed the door, but it didn’t do much to relieve the awkward tension still heavy on the air.

Finally, with an extremely frustrated breath that sounded an awful lot like _“Unbelievable,”_ Sean tossed up his hands and stormed out of the condo. To his credit, however, he closed the door gently behind him.

Alone and at a loss for what to do now, Mike just closed his eyes and exhaled.

 

*

“Harvey.”

Admittedly, Mike’s first attempt was weak, his voice far too quiet to probably be heard through door. There was no sound coming from the other side, and he considered that maybe Harvey had gone to bed. But hardly fifteen minutes had passed and when Mike thought about all the times he’d stayed over, he remembered that he was always the one who passed out first; sprawled on the couch, feet on the coffee table, movie credits rolling, takeout boxes on the floor. Harvey was always the one sliding a pillow under his head at one a.m. before ever turning off the lights himself.

So Mike tried again, a little louder this time.

“Har _vey.”_ He knocked cautiously for a third time, and when still nothing happened, decided to get creative. “I really don’t feeling like going all the way home so if it’s okay I’m just gonna crash here,” he called. “Um, so, do you have an extra blanket I can borrow?”

His appeal toward Harvey’s basic sense of responsibility worked, and the door cracked open slowly.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, it’s just sorta cold and—”

“You didn’t,” Harvey interrupted gently. He nodded over his shoulder for Mike follow as he wandered toward a closet, pulled it open and began to tug a blanket from the top shelf. “How’s this?”

“Good,” Mike said, accepting the blanket and tucking part of it under his arm. He gave Harvey a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

A hand reached out and lazily ruffled his hair. “Sure thing, rookie,” Harvey whispered, turning back to the closet to grab a new sheet and toss it onto the bed. Mike didn’t care to think a whole lot about that, so he just took it as his cue to leave the room, and headed for the door, stopping just in the doorway to turn around.

“Um, goodnight,” he said lamely, because he figured stalling probably wasn’t going to open the lines of communication any further, and he felt like he knew too much but not enough and Harvey was looking at him the same way, with deeply bloodshot eyes that Mike mercifully pretended not to notice.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

 

*


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added tags, please read them. I don't want to trigger anyone.
> 
> Just to err on the side of caution, this chapter deals with: serious consent issues between Harvey and Mike, mentions of past non-con, and self-harm. I don’t claim that any of the relationships, between Harvey/Mike, Harvey/Sean, or even Mike and Sean, are healthy or completely consensual. They’re all a little messed up in their own codependent way, and this isn’t an attempt to romanticize any of that, it’s just to tell the story despite all of those issues. People go back to people who hurt them all the time, unfortunately, and ideally Mike and Sean would both run for the hills, but that’s not necessarily the case in this. 
> 
> There’s one (maybe 2?) more chapter(s) after this, possibly an epilogue. I really hope most of you are satisfied with the ending! I know not everyone will be, though, and for that I apologize. 
> 
> Some future!fics in this ‘verse have been floating around in my head, so I may eventually write those. But one thing at a time. I'm sorry I take so long to update, but life just gets in the way of life sometimes, you know? 
> 
> *
> 
> Since it’s been awhile since the last chapter – this picks up several hours after Sean leaves Harvey’s apartment, and Mike goes to sleep on the couch.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and for the amazing reviews. It really means a lot to me and inspires me to keep going, even concrit or concerns. I love you all and I hope I don't disappoint. 
> 
> Shoutout [innerdialogue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/innerdialogue/pseuds/innerdialogue) for all the encouragement and always being there to beta.
> 
> *

 

***

 

Mike woke up to the sound of a door clicking open, water running, and then the feeling of a cool breeze hitting the part of his leg that had fallen off the side of the couch. Disoriented, he looked around for a few seconds to get his bearings, and then noticed Harvey standing on the balcony.

Frowning, Mike stood up and padded across the living room, out on to the little porch in the sky overlooking Manhattan. It was breathtaking in the morning, but at night the view was unmatched. Particularly with Harvey setting the scene, standing stoically in sweats and a t-shirt, sipping something from a glass that Mike presumed was expensive. And alcoholic, if the brooding expression on his face was anything to go by.

“Hi,” Mike said softly.

Harvey acknowledged him with a faint nod. Eventually, he asked, “Did I wake you?”

Mike shrugged. “It’s okay. I wasn’t…in that deep of a sleep I guess.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, and it was surprisingly comfortable – in a way things hadn’t been between them for a while. But there was still tension, stirring under the surface, behind the dark pools of Harvey’s eyes and in the tired creases at their corners. Mike studied him when he thought that Harvey couldn’t tell, and wondered if the man had ever gone to sleep at all.

Nothing had been resolved. Sean had stormed out – Mike hadn’t blamed him – and Harvey was still quite clearly clinging to resentment over what he considered such a painful breach of trust. Mike understood that anger, but he wanted to tell Harvey how long Sean had kept that secret, even when it had haunted him, pried at his ribcage, and sat heavy on his shoulders. Mike wanted to explain that Sean had only told because he was desperate to help; because at some point he had to believe that keeping quiet was doing more harm than good.

But Mike didn’t say any of that. He knew Harvey too well; knew all about his reservations with promises and his inability to forgive a broken one this soon. Still, it didn’t help ease the pang in Mike’s chest that made him feel like Harvey might never have told him at all; that there were things Harvey would never be comfortable sharing with him. Mike always suspected that how much he loved Harvey was painfully obvious, and that it was glaring in its unconditional nature, but this amount of guarded behavior on Harvey’s part gave him doubts.

Tugging him from his concern, Harvey’s voice broke in. “I should tell you I’m…sorry.”

Mike raised his eyebrow in question. It wasn’t everyday that word passed Harvey Specter’s lips.

“About how everything turned out,” Harvey explained. “It’s…not what I planned, Mike.” He sighed, taking a final sip from his glass and then stepping to rest his hands on the edge. “I keep thinking about that night…”

Mike might have scoffed if he thought it wouldn’t make things worse. There were so many nights he thought about on an endless loop, he had no idea how to pin down the one Harvey was referring to. So he just followed the other man’s movements with his eyes, watching and listening intently when he finally continued.

“At your apartment. After you found out…well…you know. You told me I ruined it. And it’s…” Harvey shifted, keeping his eyes off in the distance, at nothing in particular except a vast expanse of sparsely-lit buildings. “It’s all I can think about.”

“Harvey, I—”

“Was I already too late?”

“What?”

“That night, I mean…” Harvey shrugged, turning to face Mike directly for the first time. “Did I blow it the second Sean and I met?”

Mike shook his head. “No.”

“But I still ruined it.”

“Harvey, I was…I was in shock. Everything happened so fast, you know?”

“The kiss. Did that happen too fast?”

_No,_ Mike thought. In the big picture, in fact, it had felt like entirely too long of a wait. But that night had been tense and Harvey’s mouth had felt angry, his body rigid, and none of it had even been in the realm of what Mike had always fantasized kissing Harvey would be like.

Standing there, middle of the night, barefoot on Harvey’s balcony, in his undershirt and suit pants sans belt, Mike couldn’t answer. He couldn’t lie, but his mouth went too dry at the prospect of telling the truth, so he just looked back at Harvey, and then away.

Harvey seemed to take this as an answer, whatever that was, because before Mike knew what was happening, Harvey was stepping into his space and winding a strong hand around his neck. Their lips met forcefully, and after the initial shock wore off, Mike pulled back to breathe.

He considered stopping it, because nothing about it felt any different than that night they’d first kissed. In fact, Mike was sure he tasted a little spite on Harvey’s tongue, meant for Sean but directed at him because he was the one Sean had confided Harvey’s secret too. Or maybe it was just the scotch and Mike was paranoid, but either way, it was bitter and it was there. Plus, he couldn’t even tell if Harvey was acting on impulse, or if he’d planned this all along; if the whole speech about that night was bullshit, and just a mere conversational segue to Mike’s mouth.

But Harvey still had one hand behind his neck, holding him tight, and it screamed the same amount of longing as it did raw possessiveness, and even if it didn’t, Mike was desperate to know what it was like to get closer to Harvey on a physical level – the one plain their relationship had never really traversed. At the end of the day, ideal circumstances or not, he just wanted Harvey to want him.

“Come here,” Harvey whispered, dropping his hand to Mike’s wrist and pulling him back inside the condo. He set his empty glass on the coffee table with a clink and kept a firm grip on Mike as he headed to the bedroom.

Mike followed, but his heart was beating out of his fucking chest with anxiety and anticipation. He wanted this; wanted _everything_ with Harvey, wanted it even more than ever now that he knew Sean had been able to have it. He still knew that, technically, Harvey had never really been his, but it didn’t matter, didn’t make it feel any less like someone had stolen him, and that it was his best friend who had done it. And the fact that he and Sean hadn’t even met when it first happened seemed irrelevant now.

Still, though, this was a precipice Mike had never been on with anyone, and he found it hard to conceal his nerves. The way Harvey was pushing him along, one hand on his hip, one on his shoulder, told him that Harvey was unaware of his inexperience, and Mike’s insecurity grew and grew until he was flat on his back on the bed fighting off a panic attack.

“Harvey,” he started, the name coming out cracked and nervous and preemptively apologetic. And, apparently, unheard, because Harvey’s mouth latched onto his neck, sucking and kissing like this wasn’t the first time they’d crossed this line, like doing this wasn’t breaking a thousand and one unwritten rules. 

With Harvey’s knees on either side of his thighs, and his elbows bracketing his chest, Mike turned his neck instinctively to give Harvey better access, and tried to focus on his own breathing. But then he felt a hand trail down his stomach, pushing up his shirt, and the skin on skin contact burned. It took him back to the night in his apartment when Harvey had pinned him to the wall, asked for more than Mike could give him, and from there his mind spiraled back to the afternoon that Harvey had hit him.

_“Harvey,”_ he repeated, this time a little more strained, the vocal version of putting his foot down if ever there was one. And Harvey stopped and lifted his head and looked down.

“What, sweetheart?”

_Sweetheart?_ Mike tensed a little more, thought about all of his conversations he’d had with Sean over beer in the beginning, the recaps of Sean’s nights with Harvey when Harvey’s identity was still a mystery, and all the nicknames Sean had admitted to with a shadow of shame on his face as he’d tilted back bottle after bottle.

“I’ve…” Mike took a deep, steadying breath. “I’ve never done…this…before…” He looked away for a few seconds, waiting, wondering if this was a deal breaker, or if it made no difference at all.

“I know,” Harvey replied softly, when Mike turned back to face him again.

“Oh. Is it…I mean…it’s that…obvious?”

Harvey smirked. “Well, I’ve been trying to take your clothes off for ten minutes and you keep stopping me, so yeah, rookie—” he hovered his lips over Mike’s and finished in a whisper, “Kind of.”

“Sorry,” Mike mumbled, feeling himself blushing, grateful the room was dim enough at this time of night that Harvey couldn’t tell, even though he probably could’ve guessed. “I just…”

“Do you want this, Mike?” Harvey asked, his hand resuming its slide up the smooth skin of Mike’s stomach, fingers teasingly grazing his nipple. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Nodding, Mike tried to dismiss the shiver he got at Harvey’s harsh words. Not that he had any delusions that Harvey was the kind of person who would say something as hopelessly romantic or lame as _make love,_ but he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t hoped it was a possibility.

“Okay, then.” Harvey removed his hand from under his shirt and began to undo the button and zipper of Mike’s pants, fingers moving deftly even under the pressure of lust.

“What do I do?” Mike asked, and immediately felt like it was a stupid question, and he regretted how young and clueless he sounded. But Harvey just laughed gently, warmly, in contrast to the way he jerked Mike’s pants off his hips.

“What you always do, rookie,” he breathed. “Follow my lead."

So Mike did, arching and shifting his body whatever way he needed to in order for Harvey to finish getting his clothes off. And then he lied there, a little mesmerized, watching Harvey sit back on his heels and pull of his t-shirt, the material disappearing quickly to reveal tan skin of Harvey’s strong core.

Without even thinking about it, Mike reached out to touch him, pressing his fingers against the warm skin at Harvey’s hip for the first time. He could hardly even believe it was happening, that this wasn’t just some extension of a year and a half long fantasy, but that it was _real._

While Harvey finished undressing, and then moved to straddle him again, Mike was caught up in a slew of racing, contradictive emotions about how he felt like he was betraying Sean by sleeping with Harvey, and even cheating on him _with_ Harvey, in some bizarre emotional way. And at the same time, Mike couldn’t bring himself to care enough to stop, and there was a mantra in his head that kept chanting _mine first, mine first, I love him, he was mine first._

Harvey noticed the distant, distracted look in Mike’s eyes and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Snapping out of his daze, Mike shrugged. “Nothing,” he lied. “You.”

“Good.” Fully naked now, Harvey leaned forward, pressing their bodies together, and Mike gasped at the sensation. “You should be thinking about how hard you are.”

“Yeah,” Mike breathed, rocking up against Harvey’s erection, purely a carnal reflex, but he must have done it right, because Harvey groaned and pushed back down against him.

They stayed like that for a while, just grinding fervently against each other, until Mike whimpered and started muttering, “Oh, fuck, Harvey, I’m—”

“No, wait,” Harvey sat up, leaning over to the nightstand and pulling out lube and a condom. “Don’t come yet. Wait for me. Wanna fuck you first. Okay?”

His voice was all breathy and lust-filled and Mike nodded wildly, using all his self-control to not touch himself or Harvey. The room was dark-ish, but there was enough light coming in from the hallway and from around the corners of the bathroom that he could see enough of Harvey to remember how gorgeous he was; just as strikingly handsome like this, with no clothes and turned on as fuck, as he was when he was rocking the shit out of a three piece suit.

“You’re so hot,” Mike blurted out, because for the first time, he could actually say it. But he was still a little insecure and little embarrassed by the bluntness of the statement.

Fortunately, Harvey didn’t laugh at him, just rolled on a condom with practiced ease and practically preened at the compliment, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to Mike’s lips and hummed.

Mike sat up a little, heartbeat revving at the sight of Harvey’s thighs when he shifted positions and light trickling in the room lit up at least a dozen scars. He reached toward them, only to have a strong hand grab his wrist, twist it over his head and pin in there.

“I just wanted to—”

“No,” Harvey said, and he sounded caught off-guard and a little pissed. Then, with a regretful look on his face, he sighed, nuzzling his face into Mike’s neck and adding, “Just don’t. Please.”

“Sorry,” Mike whispered. Harvey didn’t let go of his wrist, but with his free hand he uncapped the lube and trailed two slick fingers down between Mike’s legs.

“Let’s just fuck,” he suggested, pushing gently at Mike’s hole. “Okay?”

_“Ahh, fuck,”_ Mike hissed. “O-okay.”

He writhed a little as Harvey worked him open, not incredibly gently but slow enough that Mike could bite back his discomfort, only shifting a bit to help things along. His bit his lip, turned his head and tried to get Harvey to kiss his mouth instead of his neck.

Even with three fingers inside him, and one of his legs pushed forward a little more than he normally could bend, he still couldn’t stop thinking. About everything. About what this meant for them in the long-run, about the impact it might have on them professionally, about Sean, about Harvey _and_ Sean, about those scars he’d only gotten a glimpse of, about why Harvey had never felt like he could tell him, about why Harvey was _so mad_ at Sean for telling him, about why Harvey didn’t trust him – Mike Ross, of all people, _his guy_ – with that information.

His mind blanked out momentarily, and he gasped when he felt Harvey’s fingers slide out of him, wet and slick. It felt a little weird and foreign, but so far it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Then he felt Harvey move forward, close between his legs, pushing his knees up a little too far, and pressing his cock against him, and he tensed.

“Relax, Mike,” Harvey told him, gradually increasing the pressure until the head of his cock pushed in. But Mike was tight, so tight, and Harvey had to grit his teeth at the sensation.

“Fuck, Harvey.” Mike shifted again, but with Harvey on top of him, bearing down and forward, there wasn’t much room to move, wasn’t much leeway to do anything except take it. “That’s…it’s… _ahh. Fuck, ow, Harvey—”_

_“Good boy,”_ Harvey breathed into his ear, and Mike shivered, because he instantly remembered the night he overheard him say those words to Sean. Bitterness flooded over him, but it was fleeting, and then he thought about the time that Harvey had called _him_ that, and he tried to let the other thoughts go, tried to will himself to relax and enjoy what was happening, because he did want it, because he’d wanted it for _so long_ it was like finally eating after hunger strike.

Harvey pushed further inside, moaning against Mike’s neck, trying to set a rhythm despite how impossibly tight and tense Mike was, clenching involuntarily around his cock and almost pushing Harvey over the edge way too soon.

“Harvey—” Mike choked out, reaching down to press his palm against Harvey’s thigh, to slow him down a little, because it felt like too much at once. He really wasn’t trying to cross any lines – it was reflexive; an instinct to push Harvey back, to give himself a chance to adapt to the stretch and the invasive feeling of being penetrated. But Harvey misinterpreted the action, reached down and grabbed Mike’s hand, yanked up over his head and held it there with the other one that was still helplessly pinned.

“I said don’t,” Harvey whispered harshly.

Mike’s breathing was a little labored when he replied, “I wasn’t trying to – _ugh, fuck –_ can you just…slow down…”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Harvey took a deep a breath, slowing his thrusts down into more bearable movements, adjusting the angle of each one until he hit Mike’s prostate and Mike practically shrieked in pleasure.

“Oh god, oh god, _what—”_

“See? Feels good, doesn’t it? _Fuck, Mike,_ you’re so tight.”

“It’s still…” Mike’s brain couldn’t come up with the word _uncomfortable,_ but every other time Harvey pushed inside him, a bolt of pleasure rushed through him and it kind of made up for that, so he just kept biting his lip, every now and then a whimper and a moan fighting their way past his lips. _“God, unh—”_

“That’s it,” Harvey whispered. He kissed Mike’s forehead, and for a split second Mike thought he might melt just from that gesture alone. Plus there was the feeling of Harvey’s body, nearly holding him down with his chest and his arms, and he smelled like sex and sweat and leftover soap from his shower hours ago. For a minute, it was amazing, and for a minute, it felt good, and for a minute it was tender and intimate and despite the initial discomfort, Mike had never been happier that he’d waited; that Harvey was his first. Because for a minute, it was worth it.

But then, like most things in his life, everything went south.

“Why won’t you talk to me about it?” Mike asked, breathless.

Harvey made a noise that sounded like pleasure being interrupted by annoyance. “You’re really killing the mood, Mike,” he breathed. “You’re thinking too much. I need – _mm –_ I think I need to fuck you harder.”

Mike decided to let the topic go for now, bracing himself as Harvey began thrusting harder, intentionally hitting his sweet spot almost constantly, until Mike was writhing beneath him as much as he could, whimpering Harvey’s name over and over, trying to twist his wrists out of the tight grasp they were in.

“Let go,” he said. He could feel his cock leaking between them, but Harvey was just high enough above it that he couldn’t get any friction, and it was achingly hard. “Need to touch myself. Please, _Harvey. Fuck. Fuck. Goddamn it.”_

Harvey ignored the request, burying his face into Mike’s neck again. “You have a filthy mouth,” he growled. “I didn’t know that, but I like it.”

“Har _vey—”_

“You can come just like this, just from my cock, _like a little slut.”_

Mike froze, stopped tugging at Harvey’s hands, breath stopping in his throat, that bitter feeling rushing back to him. In the span of a few seconds, reality hit him like a thousand pound weight, and it didn’t feel good anymore, it felt awkward as hell. He was having sex with _his boss._ His best friend’s boyfriend, technically, former _client –_ not the lawyer kind of client – if Mike was being honest with what Sean and Harvey’s relationship really was. And after that, all Mike could feel was the sensation of being smothered, and all he could think was _awkward, awkward, awkward, wrong._

And then Harvey called him a slut again, and again, whispering profanities in his ear, telling him to _take it_ and _be a good boy, Mike, be a good slut,_ and even though Harvey _did_ turn him on, Mike just couldn’t come that way, needed desperately to stroke himself, and he didn’t like the way Harvey was holding him down. Everything Harvey was doing reminded Mike of the things Sean had told him, in confidence with a distant look in his eyes, when they were drunk or high, usually.

Mike might have been a virgin twenty minutes ago, but he already knew this wasn’t the kind of sex he liked. He wanted to touch Harvey, wanted it slow and deliberate, wanted to participate more than he wanted to be pinned down and fucked. He wanted Harvey to compliment him, not hiss slurs like _slut_ and _whore_ against his jaw in between sharp bites to his skin.

He knew Harvey didn’t mean them literally, but then again, he _had_ hired a whore. Not that Mike thought of Sean that way – despite the occasional burst of jealous anger when he’d called him one – but that was, honestly, what Harvey had used him for. So something in Mike unsettled every time Harvey called him that, and he felt resentment building in his chest, and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to feel for this man.

“Seriously, let go,” he finally said, once he’d worked up the nerve. Panic hit him a little, heartbeat racing, but Harvey released his wrists, and Mike exhaled. “I just… _unh…_ I don’t like that.”

Harvey breathed hard against his neck, hips snapping forward but then slowing the more Mike began to tap out, turning away every time Harvey whispered something else equally degrading into his ear.

“Don’t call me that. Can you just—”

“You can touch yourself. Go ahead, make yourself come.”

But Mike wasn’t into it anymore, and even as Harvey’s cock nudged shallowly against his prostate, Mike felt his erection fading, and he just wanted it to be over.

“I can’t,” he admitted. “You…you can…”

Harvey sighed, sounding exasperated, and pulled out. 

Mike winced a little. “I said you could—”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike.” Harvey rolled onto his back, his breathing slowing down.

Feeling weird and exposed and a little like he’d failed, Mike toed the blanket up within arm’s reach and pulled it over himself. They lied side by side for several minutes, silent, neither sure what to say, both just slowly recovering, the sweat on their skin drying under the gentle breeze of the ceiling fan.

Eventually, Harvey stood up and went into the bathroom. Mike heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on and off, and he lied there wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. Go back to the couch? Go home, even though it was the middle of the night and he had work in five hours? Dissolve into sand because that would be easier than any of the above or dealing with the fallout?

He managed to fish around the floor for his clothes, and get on his t-shirt and boxers before Harvey emerged from the bathroom, still completely naked, hands strategically placed in front of him but doing little to cover up the truth. This time, though, Mike didn’t bring it up.

“Where are you going?” Harvey asked, returning to his side of the bed.

“Figured you’d want me to leave,” Mike muttered.

“Mike.” Harvey sighed. “I fucked up. I forgot—I got caught up in it, I thought—”

“You thought I was Sean?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“’Cause in case you haven’t figured it out, he doesn’t like that either.”

Harvey didn’t have a response for that, so he just stayed quiet, watching Mike looking around half-heartedly for his pants. Cautiously, Harvey slid toward him on the bed, placing one hand on his shoulder.

_“Mike,”_ he began. “I fucked up. I didn’t mean to—I keep fucking up. I need you to give me another chance. I need you to—” Harvey leaned his head against the back of Mike’s neck in shame. “I need you to love me again.”

Mike closed his eyes tight, feeling them stinging with tears. He didn’t realize that was what Harvey had derived from the night he’d said, _I loved you the whole time, but now…I don’t know._ He hadn’t meant that he didn’t love him anymore. He meant he was confused and hurt and in shock. But the truth was, he’d never stopped.

He turned slowly, lifting his legs back up on the bed, sitting cross-legged and facing Harvey. “I didn’t think it would be weird,” he admitted. “I thought—”

“I know,” Harvey conceded. “I pushed you, I…”

“No, not that. I mean…just…” Mike struggled for the words. “I thought we’d just…like…be on the same page. I thought it would be like…how I pictured it. But it wasn’t. You won’t tell me anything. You won’t let me help you.”

“What…what do you want to know?” Harvey asked, keeping his eyes down on the sheets.

“I wanna know what happened to you. I wanna know why you hurt yourself. And I wanna know why you didn’t tell me about it, but you told Sean.”

“I told you why I didn’t tell you.”

“Then tell me the rest,” Mike persisted. “Please. It won’t leave this room, Harvey. I won’t care about you any less.”

Harvey ran a hand over his face. He looked exhausted. “Okay. But I want—I want to sleep first. Can we sleep first?”

Mike studied him for a minute and then relented. “Yeah. Do you want me to go to the couch?”

“Not really.” Harvey pulled the blankets up over himself and nodded toward the pillow behind Mike in silent invitation.

Tentatively, Mike leaned back down, curling up a little, accepting the covers when Harvey tugged the other side of them over his body.  Facing Harvey, he felt the awkwardness ease, the bitterness from earlier fading, and he had an overwhelming urge to kiss him that he wasn’t quite strong enough to resist.

Harvey put his hand on Mike’s hips, carefully, as if the move might backfire. But Mike covered his hand with his own to let him know it was okay, and Harvey seemed to relax, eyes closing, breathing quickly rising and falling as fatigue took over.

Mike just watched him. It was weird to think of Harvey as victim. Which didn’t mean that Mike thought of him as an aggressor, because he didn’t, despite intermittent moments in which Harvey scared the shit out of him. But because Harvey was strong and confident and for so long Mike had looked at him like he was infallible; nothing could touch him, or offend him, or beat him. So the idea that someone had hurt him – that someone had hurt him badly enough to make him _hurt himself –_ was almost impossible to comprehend, and knowing it was true was almost more than Mike could handle. He’d always felt like Harvey was the one who protected _him_ – from Jessica, and Louis, from getting caught in his fraud – but now Mike was the one who felt a surge of protectiveness rising in him, and anger for whoever had caused Harvey to think he was so damaged in the first place.

With his head tucked against Harvey’s chest, and Harvey’s hand still resting gently on his hip, Mike closed his eyes, and, falling asleep to the cadence of his heartbeat, he tried to forgive him.

*

 

Five hours passed quickly, but Mike felt mostly rested when Harvey’s alarm clock went off at eight o’clock. Technically, he should’ve been to work earlier, but since he wasn’t working for Reeves anymore, he was pretty much a free agent. And this week none of the partners had any work for him to do before about ten a.m. anyway.

Harvey reached over and hit snooze, still looking sound asleep. Mike noticed that at some point during the night, Harvey had kicked off the blanket, and the sun filtering in around the blinds practically shined a spotlight on his body.

Suppressing an alarmed gasp, Mike just observed. Scars from his groin to a few inches above the knee riddled the expanse of both of his thighs, the top and the inside, from what Mike could see without moving. He watched, heart aching, until the alarm rang a second time and Harvey finally stirred.

Mike was the first to speak, his voice a little hoarse with sleep. “Hey,” he said, when Harvey rolled over. He scanned his face for signs of regret that it was Sean he was waking up to, but so far there wasn’t a trace of it.

“Hey.” Harvey smiled weakly and reached out to run his fingers through Mike’s hair. After a moment, he said, “Last night—”

“It’s okay,” Mike interrupted.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Harvey sighed, didn’t say anything more for a few minutes. “Who are you working for today?”

Mike shrugged. “Whoever needs me I guess.”

It was evident that Harvey wanted to tell him, _I need you,_ because it was true; working solo or with random associates was hell. Everything was harder and lonelier without Mike to back him up, to stand at his side in court, to catch his mistakes that sometimes went over his head but never over Mike’s.

But Harvey didn’t want to pressure him to come back. He’d already asked, already demanded several times, and it was only pushing Mike further away; driving him to hide out in the bullpen or the file room just to avoid crossing paths. Harvey just clung to the hope that Mike would start to miss their old routine as much as he did.

“Do we have to get up?” Mike asked softly, trying to keep his eyes on Harvey’s face and not his abs or his dick or his scars.

Harvey looked at his watch. “Eventually.”

They lied there quietly for a little longer, and Mike was so comfortable he thought he might start drifting off to sleep again. He had one leg under the cover and one warmed by the sun, and he could feel heat from Harvey’s body close to his, and the mattress was perfect and the sheets were soft and everything was okay right then, and he didn’t want to leave. Despite everything, he didn’t want to leave.

And just as he started to close his eyes, mind slowing down, Harvey’s voice broke in again, still rough with sleep, slow and apprehensive. He looked beyond Mike at nothing in particular, like making eye contact was too much for what he was about to admit.

“I told her I was going to tell him,” he began. “She said he wouldn’t believe me.”

Mike opened his eyes. “What?” he asked sleepily, adjusting his pillow so it was higher, so he could pay better attention.

“My mother,” Harvey explained. “When I found out she was cheating on my dad, I said if she didn’t stop, I’d tell him. She said, ‘he’ll never believe you, I’ll tell him you’re lying, who do you think he’ll believe?’”

“You were sixteen. Why wouldn’t he believe you? He was your—”

“I know. But I thought she was right, so I didn’t say anything for a long time. And then…” Harvey paused to take a shaky breath. “Then it was a different guy every couple weeks, sometimes in their bed, when my dad was on the road with his band.”

“Did you ever tell him?” Mike asked. He had a sick feeling that this wasn’t what had driven Harvey to self-mutilate.

Harvey nodded, eyes still averted, seemingly in shame. “Eventually. He didn’t believe me at first, but then…then he got suspicious, I guess. Started leaving more often, being gone longer. And when he wasn’t there, she—”

He stopped mid-sentence, and Mike detected the crack in those words.

“She what? Harvey.”

“She…” Harvey ran a hand over his face in distress. “She was so…so _pissed off_ that I told him, that he believed me, that he was going to leave her, so…when they’d come over, I—I had to— _fuck,_ Mike, never mind, I can’t do this.”

He rolled over in one motion, and shoved the lamp off of the nightstand, onto the hardwood floor where it shattered loudly. On the other side of the bed, Mike flinched, didn’t dare push him any further, but quietly hoped he’d continue. Mike didn’t _want_ to hear it – but he needed to.

“It was punishment,” Harvey finally said, sitting up, but keeping his back turned. “For telling.”

For a second, Mike thought he was crying, the way he was cradling his head in his hands. When he eventually turned around again, his eyes were dark and distant with pain, but his face remained stoic.

Still, Mike knew, almost suddenly, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut, like the worst pain he’d ever felt, on par even with the loss of his parents, and it was crushing him.

“What did they do?” he asked cautiously, even though it wasn’t necessary, but because he felt like Harvey needed to say it, even if it was the hardest thing he ever had to confess.

Harvey shook his head. “You know what they did, Mike.”

And then all the pieces fell together, Mike’s brain two steps ahead as always, every incident slotting together, no less painful but it was finally making sense, in a really fucked up way.

Carefully, Mike slid closer, kept his voice quiet and unassuming. “How many?”

 “Three,” Harvey replied, pulling the sheet up to his waist.

“Did…it help? Cutting yourself?”

Harvey hesitated and then shrugged. “It was a distraction. If I was thinking about physical pain, it made the emotional kind not so…unbearable. I guess.” He stopped and shifted uncomfortably. “I…I should…we should go to work now. If you want…if you want to take a shower first…you can…” His words ran together, slow and then rushed, like a desperate attempt to change the subject. “I’m going to make coffee.”

He stood up, keeping the sheet around him until he found his pants somewhere on the floor.

Mike just nodded. “Okay.”

 

*

After watching Harvey deliberately step over or around Sean’s backpack – still abandoned in the hallway – Mike decided it was up to him to return it. The way Sean had stormed out the night before didn’t give Mike the impression he would be coming back for it any time soon, either.

“I should bring this to him,” Mike announced.

Harvey was just sipping coffee, leaning against the counter. “Fine.”

Mike hoisted the backpack onto his shoulder. “So I’ll be late then.”

“I’ll make sure no one notices.”

“Thanks.” He made his way to the door, but something stopped him, and he turned back to face Harvey. “Hey. Can I ask you something?”

Harvey shrugged. “Shoot, kid.”

“Did you tell anyone? I mean, when it happened…”

“I didn’t have anyone to tell. My dad was gone, my mother let it happen, and Marcus was in middle school.”

“No, I mean,” Mike frowned. “…Like the police. Or a teacher… _somebody…”_

Harvey shook his head.

Mike lingered a bit longer and eventually said,  “If you want me to work with you today, I will.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“You don’t have to just because I—”

“Harvey, I never wanted to work for Reeves in the first place. I just wanted a chance to sort everything out. I never actually wanted to leave you.”

Harvey took a long sip of his coffee and nodded. “Go see Sean. Take your time. When you get to work, I’ll be there.”

 

*

 

Mike didn’t make it to Brooklyn until about ten thirty, but Sean was still home. And, apparently, still asleep.

“Oh. Hey.” He rubbed his eyes when he opened the door and motioned for Mike to come in.

“Thought this might come in handy today.” Mike set the backpack on the couch. Noticing Sean’s bloodshot eyes, he added,  “Or tomorrow. Are you high?”

“Thanks.” Sean’s voice was glum, as if the idea of school had lost all enchantment. “And yeah. A little bit.”

“You are still going, right?” Mike asked, studying his friend intensely. "To school?"

Sean walked over to the alcove where his bed was and flopped down onto his back. “Yeah. But today…I’m sleeping.”

Mike took a seat at the edge of the mattress. Guilt prickled his conscience when he eventually broke the silence. “We…” he took a deep breath. “We slept together.”

Whether or not Sean was initially a mere projection of Harvey’s actual desires, their relationship had quickly outgrown that. Mike took Harvey away from the Sean the way Sean had taken him from Mike – except he’d never been Mike’s to begin with, not really. So it didn’t feel right, being with him. In fact, all Mike had thought about the night before was Sean – even when Harvey was inside him. And that…that was a problem.

There was a wince on Sean’s face at Mike’s words. “When?”

“Last night.”

“That’s…” Sean forced a shrug. “That’s good…right? I mean…”

“I don’t know,” Mike admitted. “It was…it was weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Like…I felt guilty, you know, like he was cheating on you with me. So I kept thinking about you instead of him. And I know…he was thinking about you, too. So we’re having sex with each other but we’re both thinking about you and we both know it and it’s…it was just really…” Mike paused to shake his head and laugh bitterly. “Weird.”

Sean frowned. “How do you know he was thinking about me, Mike? He’s always wanted to sleep with you. I mean, that’s what this whole thing was literally about. He wanted to fuck you without losing you as a friend and a colleague. I seriously doubt he had anything else on his mind.”

“I could tell, though,” Mike explained, shifting uncomfortably. “He was…doing stuff, you know, that you did with him. And I didn’t really…I told him I was—”

“A virgin?”

“Inexperienced. But he still…sort of pushed. And when I told him it was…that I didn’t want to do that, not yet, he…he stopped but…he just seemed really annoyed. And I felt so stupid.”

Sean propped himself up on his elbows. “He told you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Everything?”

“Enough for me to get it.” Mike looked down sadly and fidgeted with his hands. “I should go. I told him I’d work with him today.”

“You what? Mike, are you serious? After he—”

Mike scoffed. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Sean. He could stab you half to death and you’d still do whatever he wanted. If I want to help him with his cases, it’s my call. He hired me in first place, and no other partner needs me right now.”

“What I let him off the hook for is irrelevant. I don’t care about me. I care about you.”

“That’s profound.” Mike rolled his eyes. “Self-deprecation and solidarity in one sentence.”

Sean gave him a faint smirk. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Mike eyed him suspiciously.

“I’m texting Harvey that you’re not coming in today.”

“Sean, I already—”

“Just give me your phone.”

Mike heaved a big sigh and then pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll do it myself. What, exactly, is my excuse?”

“Well, for starters, you haven’t gotten over last night in one fell swoop. And second,” Sean patted the empty space beside him. “You’re staying with me today.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. Hurry up.”

With a little regret, Mike typed out a quick text, pressed send, and turned off his phone. Then he climbed into bed beside Sean and stared up at the ceiling.

“I asked my parents if I could move home,” Sean said quietly. “They said if I can live by their rules, I can come back.”

Mike rolled onto his side, stared at Sean in disbelief. “What? Why? Why would do that? I mean, after everything they did to—”

“Mike, Harvey’s going to leave me. Without him, I don’t have grad school, I can’t keep my apartment. And I miss my mother. She’s no saint, but, she’s still my mom.” He shook his head. “I’m tired of being alone, Mike.”

“But you’re not. You have me.”

Sean smiled weakly, with appreciation. “I know. But Harvey picked you, Mike. And after everything he’s done, I know you still love him. I don’t want to screw that up for you anymore than I already have. The only way I know how to leave him, is to leave New York.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Mike mumbled.

Sean’s decision weighed heavily on them in the small apartment, only easing when they both drifted off to sleep.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't where I intended to leave off in this chapter, however I didn't want to wait any longer to finally update, so the rest will continue in part 17. Once again, things tend to get worse before they get better. I do promise that I still know where all of this is going. :)
> 
> -s


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good grief, i have no idea why this took me so long! sorry! :)
> 
>  
> 
> **trigger warning for discussion of past self-harm and suicidal ideation

*

**Thursday,  Day 96**

Mike woke up slowly, taking nearly a full minute just to remember where he was. He was half-curled, knees pulled up, blanket over one leg, his face pressed close to something soft and solid and it smelled faintly of weed and his own cologne.

It wasn’t until he was awake that he realized how exhausted he’d been; how stressed and depleted and emotionally drained. But the past – he looked at his watch – three hours, he’d been sleeping so soundly that just opening his eyes was like coming out of a trance.

When he lifted his head from where it was resting against Sean’s shoulder and saw his friend asleep, breathing steadily, it all came back to Mike: the night before, leaving Harvey’s, coming to Brooklyn, skipping work.

He wasn’t ready to deal with the fallout of all of that, so he dropped his head and closed his eyes again.

The second time he woke up, it was three in the afternoon and Sean was still beside him, sleepy but awake with his eyes on his phone.

Mike just watched for a moment, and then everything crashed down again.

“Oh, _shit,”_ he breathed. “Shit!”

Sean looked up and rolled over. “What?”

“I didn’t go to work.”

“I know.”

“Fuck.” Mike fished around for his cell phone in a panic.”Harvey’s gonna kill me.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “You don’t even work for him anymore.”

“Not…directly,” Mike conceded. “But he’s the only one who makes sure no one finds out I didn’t go to Harvard. At the end of the day, I’ll _always_ work for him.”

“Well, tell him you were sleeping for once in your life. He should try it sometime.”

There were three voicemails and five texts waiting for Mike once he turned on his phone, and anxiety and guilt began to coil in his stomach. He’d told Harvey he’d work with him and then didn’t show up. For the first time in two years, Mike hadn’t even _shown up._

Nervously – and despite Sean’s protests – he dialed his voicemail and waited.

_11:19am_

_Mike. Call me back._

_12:11pm_

_Where the hell are you?_

_12:54pm_

_God damn it._

He went through his text messages, reading them aloud, each one more concerned than the last.

[10:50am] Harvey: _When will you be here?  
_ [11:34am] Harvey: _Are you coming in??  
_ [1:14pm] Harvey: _Mike, I swear to god  
_ [2:06pm] Harvey: _I can’t stand when I don’t know where you are_

“Wow.” Sean shook his head. “That’s like, borderline stalking or something.”

“Give me a break,” Mike scoffed. “He keeps closer tabs on you.”

Sean laughed, and Mike’s nervous energy started to dissipate. He didn’t quite know what to say to Harvey yet, so he just put his phone on silent and pushed it across the bed.

Turning to face Sean, he asked, “What do I have to do to make you stay?”

“Huh?”

“In New York,” Mike explained. “What do I have to do to make you stay? We could…you could move in with me. I mean, I don’t have a lot of room but…we could start over. We could both start over.”

“I…” Sean seemed to lose whatever words he thought he’d found. He trailed off, not meeting Mike’s eyes.

It gave Mike the feeling that Sean wasn’t planning to leave for any other reason than self-sacrifice. Not because he wasn’t terrified of enduring his parents’ consistent abuse all over again and not because he actually wanted to give up on school. In fact, judging by his expression, he hadn’t even _begun_ to come to terms with the decision.

“What are we doing, then?” Mike asked, suddenly feeling agitated; helpless to stop what felt like another impending change in his life that he had no control over.

“Resting…?”

“No, I mean….I didn’t go to work. You didn’t go to school. I slept with Harvey. You’re …moving back to Jersey. What…what are we _doing,_ Sean?”

“I…I don’t know, Mike.”

“Right.”

Sean’s lack of an answer depressed Mike more, and after a few more minutes he got up, fixed his bed hair and put his phone in his pocket. 

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to before Harvey puts out an APB.”

“Well…do you…if you wanna come back later, before I…” Sean smiled to cover up the sadness, but it wasn’t lost on Mike, who winced and shifted on his feet.

“When—I mean, you’re leaving that s—”

“Rent’s due on the first, lease is up the twenty-eighth. I don’t wanna pay for another month if I’m not gonna be here. And…” Sean sighed. “If I’m gonna go, Mike, I gotta just do it or I never will.”

“Because you know you don’t really want to.”

When Sean didn’t answer, Mike knew as long as he didn’t provoke him any further, they could avoid an argument before it ever started.

But, channeling pain into spite, Mike still shut the door hard when he left.

 

*

 

**Saturday, Day 98**

It was seven o’ clock and Sean was sitting in his bedroom staring at two suitcases. His whole life was inside, split between them, and neither one had even been particularly difficult to zip up.

The door rattled from the living room under three hard knocks, just as he was losing himself in existential thoughts like, _What am I doing?,_ and _Why was I even born?_

Harvey was standing there, not shoving his way inside, but not looking in the slightest like he might be denied either. He’d been home, because he was out of his suit and in jeans and a dark, long-sleeved shirt.

Sean pretended not to think about that, or about the domino effect it set up, urging him to wonder why he and Harvey had never once been able to go out when Harvey was dressed casually – or ever at all, really. He’d always been something of a bad rental movie Harvey secretly liked to watch over and over, but only behind closed doors, and only if he could leave it on the couch when he was finished.

“If you’re looking for Mike, he’s not here.”

Harvey waited for Sean to move aside, and then slipped carefully past him.

“I know.”

“Oh. ‘Cause I was gonna say, you know, you probably could’ve tracked him using GPS.” Sean shrugged and added, “He has a chip, right? Like me?”

There was no response for a few seconds, and ultimately Sean’s sarcasm fell flat because Harvey looked beyond unimpressed when he asked, “What’s your problem, Sean?”

Sean looked back insolently and shrugged. “I don’t know, Harvey. I have a lot of them.”

“I’m talking about your attitude. You just can’t keep it in check around me, can you? It’s like you’re just _asking_ me to—”

“I don’t have an _attitude._ You’re the one in _my_ apartment.”

Harvey looked back, incredulous. “Sean, I came here with my hands up. You came out of the goddamn _gate_ shooting.”

 _“Sorry._ I guess I’ve learned to be prepared for you to—”

“Listen, we need to talk,” Harvey interrupted, his tone shifting easily from annoyed to no-nonsense. “Okay?”

“Fine. Talk.”

“You know what this is, right?”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Sean asked. “Or would it be considered firing me?”

“Sean, don’t—”

“Save your pity, Harvey.”

Sean turned away and headed back to his bedroom. He could feel Harvey in step behind him, and he pretended not to care.

“What’s with the bags? Going on a trip?”

“Yeah,” Sean replied dryly. “South Jersey. Coveted vacation spot.”

Harvey stood in the doorway looking confused. “What?”

“I’m going home. Figured you knew. I thought Mike sent you to give me some more bullshit reasons to stay.”

“Mike didn’t tell me anything, just enough for me to figure out you two had a little sleepover the other day and you convinced him not to show up for work.”

“Wasn’t hard.”

“Excuse me?”

“After what you did to him, it wasn’t _hard_ to make him stay.”

Harvey stiffened. “I talked to him about that.”

Sean just shook his head. “Whatever you say, Harvey.”

He pretended to scour his room for any leftover belongings, but the truth was that there wasn’t anything left. All of his clothes, a faded picture of him and his brother, and a Columbia University diploma were already packed. The irony of the combination left him in lurch, unsure whether to cry his eyes out or just laugh.

“So you’re just gonna give up?” Harvey asked suddenly, and he knew Sean could hear the accusation and the disappointment in his voice. “Throw away the past six years to go live in Jersey with the same people you moved here to get away from?”

“They’re my _parents,_ Harvey!”

“They _hate you,_ Sean!”

Sean just stared, eyes wet and burning, not because Harvey was being insensitive or blunt, but because he was right. And it was a reminder that Sean didn’t need to hear.

“Well…” he wiped his eyes and shrugged helplessly. “I already quit my job and…I haven’t been to class for like, a week, so...I don’t really have any other options.”

Harvey sighed and walked forward. “What do I have to do to get you to stay?”

It was the exact same thing that Mike had asked, and Harvey sounded so sincere that Sean’s heart broke a little more.

“You can’t do anything, Harvey.”

“Anything, Sean. Just say it, I’ll do it.”

 “Can you take back what I did to Mike? Can you make me not feel _disgusting?”_

Harvey shook his head. “No. But you think, what, that up and leaving him is gonna help? Gonna make everything okay?”

“I can’t leave you, Harvey, don’t you get it?” Sean looked backed, his voice wrought with exhaustion. “I don’t know how to unless I leave New York.”

Harvey ran a hand through his hair in mute frustration. Cautiously, he took a few more steps. “I told you I’d get you through school. I said I’d do whatever it took to get you to graduation. Remember that?”

“Yeah, I remember that, Harvey. Right before you fucked me into the bed like I was a—”

 _“Sean,_ I never meant to—”

“I can’t do it anymore.” Sean continued, and he didn’t bother wiping his eyes again, just tossed up his hands in surrender. “I’m shot, Harvey. I’m done.”

For a long time, Harvey just lingered, looking down, and then at the wall, trying to think of _something._ Trying to figure out how the _hell_ they’d gotten here.

Finally, and even though he knew it was risky territory, he made a last ditch effort to keep Sean in New York.

“I can help you,” he offered. “So you don’t have to work right now, so you can focus on school. So you don’t have to worry about anything but that. I can—”

“You can what? Throw more money at me?”

“I’m not _throwing_ it at you, Sean. I’m giving it to you. No strings attached.”

Sean shook his head, desperately trying to fight off more tears. He needed the money, but something inside him coiled furiously at Harvey’s offer. It was too distant, too clinical, like Harvey’s only _motivation_ was _obligation_.

“You’re unbelievable,” he whispered. “I don’t want any more of your money. I want you to leave me alone.”

When Sean pushed by, dragging a suitcase behind him, Harvey followed.

“I thought you said you couldn’t leave me, Sean? That you don’t know how?”

“I _don’t,”_ Sean snapped. Keeping the rest of his emotions under the surface was a losing battle; they’d been clawing their way to the surface for an excruciatingly long time. “But you came all the way over here to tell me we’re done, so _fine,_ you win. We’re done.”

“I’m not trying to piss you off, Sean. I’m trying to _help_ you.”

Sean spun around, anger outweighed only by pain. “But you’re _not helping_ me, Harvey, you’re _patronizing me!”_ He paused to gasp and cover his face with one hand, finishing with a sob. “I didn’t fall in love with a _fucking dollar sign!”_

Harvey cringed. “I never—I never said that.”

“No, you just said you’d _pay_ me to stay here, because I don’t know, Mike made you feel bad about fucking up my life. But I don’t want your guilt or your charity. I never did. I just wanted you.”

“What do you want me to say, Sean?” Harvey was lost, and it showed. “We can’t keep going like this. But that doesn’t mean you have to leave the goddamn _state!”_

Sean didn’t speak for nearly a whole minute. Finally, voice small and resigned, he asked, “You wanna help me, Harvey?”

Harvey responded with a strained, _“Yes.”_

“Then put this—” Sean gently kicked a suitcase “—in your Lexus, and take me to Port Authority.”  

 

*

 

Standing in a sea of hurried people, activity overlapping activity, Sean had one suitcase propped up, handle of the other in a sweaty grip. He looked just as lost and small as the day Harvey had met him.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Harvey said, one last ditch effort to get Sean to stay – for Sean’s sake, and Mike’s sake, and, admittedly, even his own. Something ominous settled inside, and he had a bad feeling about letting Sean leave.

But Sean just shook his head. “Bus leaves in twenty.”

“Sean—look, you didn’t even tell Mike goodbye.”

“I texted him.”

“Classy.”

“I gotta go, okay?”

“I’m trying to cut the cord, here. You’re not making it easy.”

Sean shrugged sadly, “I can’t lose what I never really had.”

“It wasn’t all a lie. You know that.”

“Yeah. I do. Tell me I’ll be okay, Harvey.”

“I can’t.”

“It’s not that hard. Just tell me.”

“Why?” Harvey looked pained. “I can’t—”

“You don’t have to mean it.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“I always believed you when you said I’d be okay,” Sean told him. “I just need to hear it.”

Harvey sighed his refusal. “Here—” he pulled his wallet from his pocket and fished out a credit card. “Take this.”

“No.”

“Emergencies. You don’t have to use it.”

“Harvey—”

“Take the damn card, Sean. You don’t have to use it, ever. Just take it, in case—just in case. Please.”

Sean relented, because it was impossible to say no to Harvey – especially when he said _please_ and it sounded like a fucking choir. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m leaving now.”

Harvey’s jaw tensed so much the only words he could find after a solid five seconds were a strangled, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Sean said. “When are you gonna stop?”

“What?”

“Being sorry. Crucifying yourself to the point of no return.”

“I…”

“Mike didn’t deserve what you did to him, but—”

“Neither did you.”

“Debatable. But you’re not punishing yourself for that. You’re punishing yourself for what happened to you when you were sixteen years old. What good has that done?”

“I don’t know.”

“You told him. That was step one.”

“What’s step two?”

Sean picked up his suitcase, tugged the other one onto its wheels. “Forgive yourself.”

He was five steps in the other directions when Harvey called out, softly, “Hey. Sean.”

Sean looked back and smiled, weak but genuine. Tired. “Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be okay.”

Harvey didn’t believe his own words. 

 

He watched until after Sean was lost in the crowd. Then he turned and walked back to his car, stared at the steering wheel long and hard, like it held all the answers, like it might explain why everything had come to this. When it didn’t, Harvey hit it hard with his palm, over and over and over until he was cradling his hand.

“God _damnit, Sean.”_

 

*

 

There were six rapid, impatient knocks on the door that night, and it took Harvey only one of them to know who it was.

Mike waltzed in, voice pitched and distraught. “You were in _that_ much of a hurry to ship him back to Jersey? What the _fuck,_ Harvey? What happened to the whole _‘I can’t routinely fuck someone for three months without caring about them a little bit’_ speech? _”_

“Mike—”

There was so much rage in the way Mike stormed by him, so much angry energy that Harvey should’ve seen it coming, and he would have, if his brain could’ve caught up with the situation. But Mike was never like this, never this out of control, never this openly hostile.

With a frustrated half-shout, half-sob, he kicked the coffee table hard enough to send things flying on to the floor.

“Mike! What the _fuck?!”_

“Oh, _sorry,_ it’s a problem if someone _else_ breaks something?”

Harvey, wide-eyed with concern, approached him cautiously. “What the hell is going on?”

“What’s going on? What’s going on is that he _left!_ He fucking _left_ and it’s _your_ fault, Harvey!”

“How the hell is this _my_ fault, Mike? I asked him to stay. I did everything I could to make him stay!”

“Right, of course you did.” Mike scoffed, bitter as Harvey had ever, _ever_ heard him. “How’d you do that? Give him money? In case you haven’t notice, money doesn’t mean _shit_ now!”

“He _wanted_ to leave.”

“Wanted? You think he _wanted_ to go home? Where they treat him like shit and hit him in the face and tell him he’s going to hell? You still think he _wanted_ to go home, Harvey? He was desperate, again, and you just—” Mike shook his head. “That’s always so fucking convenient for you.”

“I tried to _help_ him, Mike! I wanted him to stay as much as you did, I—”

 _“Bullshit,_ Harvey! You don’t give a shit about him!”

It took Harvey’s sudden, complete silence for Mike to calm down.

Harvey turned, walked into the kitchen.

Mike eventually followed, his head spinning. He’d lost complete control, his blood pressure was through the roof, but they’d been meeting each other blow for blow and Harvey never backed down like that – never gave up like that.   _So what the hell just happened?_

“Harvey—” Mike wasn’t quite sure what to say. He just stood, watching Harvey pour a glass of whiskey full enough to knock three people on their ass, and waited.

Harvey took a long sip. “I love him,” he said, voice calculated, long time coming. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Mike? Is that the big confession you were waiting for? Well, you got it.”

“Harvey—”

“I love him,” Harvey repeated. “And I did everything I could to make him stay. But he left, Mike, he left anyway, and I had to let him go because he’s twenty-six years old and I can love him but I _can’t_ make his decisions for him anymore.”

Mike’s eyes were tearing up. “You love him.”

Harvey nodded once. “Yes.”

“Then go get him.”

“What?”

“I said go get him, Harvey.”

“Mike, I can’t—”

“If you love me _half_ as much as you love him then go _fucking get him.”_

Harvey took a deep, steady breath. “What if he doesn’t wanna come back, Mike?”

“Then make him,” Mike said.

“I can’t just—”

“That’s what you’re good at, Harvey. Making him do whatever you want.”

Harvey winced at the words and looked away.

“Besides,” Mike persisted. “You owe me.”

Not the three words Harvey wanted to hear. They hit like knives and freezing water, almost knocking him down with pure accusation before he could even open his mouth to respond. When he did, his voice was broken and confused.

“I said I was sorry and you said it was okay. I told you I fucked up, Mike, I fucked up bad and you _said_ it was okay.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not as good as Sean when it comes to pretending I’m fine. Maybe it’s gonna take me more than one fucking day to get over what you did.”

Harvey swallowed hard. “I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

 “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get, Mike? Talk to me.”

“I just…” Mike headed back into the living room, and his shoulders sagged when he collapsed onto the couch like he was literally carrying the world on them. “I feel like I’m losing everything. You, Sean…I mean, my job is always jeopardy…and…”

Harvey was right behind him, reaching down and pulling the coffee table right-side up, quickly inspecting it for any major damage before taking a seat across from Mike.

“Mike, look at me. I’m not going anywhere, okay? And as far as work goes…I promise you, I will find you a way out. And until I do, nothing is going to happen. You have to trust me.”

Mike nodded slowly. “And Sean?”

With a lot of regret, and even more apology, Harvey reached out and ran his fingers along Mike’s jaw. “I think we need to let him go, kid.”

“I can’t.”

“Give it time,” Harvey whispered, leaning in and kissing Mike’s forehead, and then his nose, and finally his lips.

Mike’s hand rose slowly from his lap, settling flat on Harvey’s chest with a gentle pressure. “Wait.”

“I thought—”

“Harvey, you just told me you love Sean. Then you said to forget about him. And now—”

“I didn’t say I love him more than you.”

“You love me?” Mike’s tone was somewhere between surprised and skeptical.

“I told you I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I didn’t?”

Mike shook his head. “You’ve never said it, Harvey. You talk about it, how Sean started off as a replacement for me, but you never said you loved me.”

“Consider this me starting,” Harvey told him. He kept his hand cradling Mike’s face. “I love you.”

It made Mike’s stomach twist, from shock, from relief, butterflies, nerves, the whole head-over-heels quota with enough residual anger to keep him from leaning in.

“You think you do.”

“What?”

“You think you love me, Harvey, but the only thing you’ve ever been sure of in your life is your career.”

Warm breath and short nails gently trailing down and off his face was the last thing Mike felt before Harvey moved away, stood up, and ran his hands through his hair. He looked weary, head to toe, emotionally and physically.

Mike knew that feeling.

There was the sound of water running, and Mike was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize Harvey had even left until he saw him standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

One hand reached up and rubbed a shiny, bloodshot eye.

“You said the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my life is my job. And you’re right.”

Mike lifted his head, but he was too stunned by the record-breaking display of emotions to react.

“It was, because I never had anything else,” Harvey continued. “Until I met you. And suddenly I didn’t give a shit about my job. Which is why I hired you. Which is why I _kept you.”_

Eventually, Harvey disappeared and reemerged fully with a pillow and a folded blanket. He set them carefully on a nearby chair.

“Door’s open, rookie,” he said quietly. “Your call.”

 

After that, Mike lingered on the couch for nearly half an hour, but he could hardly get comfortable, let alone sleep. He listened to the shower roar from Harvey’s bathroom, the click of a door, the sound of the TV coming on and settling into a soothing background of white noise.

Finally, heart a little fluttery, he stood up and walked to the bedroom, hesitating in doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Did you really…”

Harvey set the remote down and patted the other side of the bed. “Yes.”

“I want to,” Mike said honestly. “But I can’t—”

Looking disappointed, but not entirely surprised, Harvey was quiet.

“I’m saying, I want to. I wanna be with you, more than I even wanna breathe sometimes,” Mike continued. “But…I can’t. I mean, I can’t without…changing things. I can’t _be_ with you _and_ work with you, Harvey. I can’t do it. It’s all or nothing. I can’t have you be boss during the day and my boyfriend at night because…because you might be able to turn it on and off, but…Harvey, I can’t do that. You’re always going to be more than that and—”

 _“Mike,”_ Harvey interrupted, switching off the TV. He was visibly uncomfortable. “It’s fine.”

 It wasn’t, but this wasn’t a discussion he’d been prepared to have.

“What does that mean?” Mike asked.

“It means…you don’t have to justify yourself to me. Do whatever you have to do.”

“Well, you usually have an opinion on everything I do. Suddenly you don’t?”

“I want you, Mike. I thought that was pretty clear? But I also know that I blew it, and I don’t know how to fix it. So my opinion doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“It wasn’t pretty clear while you were fucking Sean for three months,” Mike remarked. “But what you think always matters to me, that’s kinda the problem.”

Harvey didn’t respond for a few seconds. But knowing this conversation was just starting, said, “You can sit, Mike. I won’t bite.”

Mike did, cautiously crossing the room like he was playing a particularly risky game with temptation. After all, Harvey was so much more approachable at night. He was dressed down in softer clothes, his hair was damp and free of product, and his whole body seemed to relax in the absence of pressure and deadlines. For Mike, it was easier to forgive him in moments like this.  

“I wish you’d never gone to work with Reeves,” Harvey admitted, once Mike was sitting cross-legged in front of him on the opposite side of the bed. “I know I told you to, and I know you wanted to, but…it threw me off my game. I did my job for years before I met you and then suddenly, one day you’re ten floors down and I can’t even figure out what my first words in court should be.”

Mike looked down at the blankets and smiled, just a little. “You’re saying you want me there?”

“I’m saying I need you there.”

“Yeah, but more than…more than you need me here?”

Harvey frowned. “You really don’t think we can have both?”

“It hasn’t worked so far.”

“Yeah. I guess not.”

They sat quietly for several minutes. Harvey spent much longer than necessary plugging in his phone and adjusting his pillow, and Mike just played with his own hands. It wasn’t awkward, but it was tense.

“I wish…” Mike took a deep a breath. He knew what he was about to say was a long time coming, but that it wouldn’t go over any easier. “I wish you’d talk to someone.”

Harvey looked up. “What, like a shrink?”

“Yeah, Harvey. Like a shrink.”

“About what?”

“You know. What happened to you. What you did to yourself. What you did to Sean. And me. Drinking. Hitting. Throwing shit. I can go on if you—”

“Okay.” Harvey stopped him. “Mike. I get it. I just—I’m not good at that. At talking to—”

“I know. That’s why you need to do it.”

Just the mere prospect of doing that sent Harvey’s anxiety levels through the roof.

“I’ll talk to you,” he bargained. “I’ll tell you everything this time, I promise.”

“Harvey, I want you to talk to me…but I don’t know how to help you,” Mike explained. “What if…what if I went with you? Would you go?”

Harvey looked back with a gentle expression and sighed. “You’re not gonna let this go are you?”

Mike shrugged. “I just don’t want you to feel like this anymore…” his voice cracked when he added, “It _kills_ me.”

“Look, Mike, I’m sorry, but…it’s not that simple, okay? What happened, it isn’t just gonna go away because I tell some stranger about it.”

“Not a stranger, Harvey. A professional.”

“Doesn’t matter. It happened twenty-five years ago, alright? That’s where I want to leave it.”

“You think you left it in the past?” Mike asked challengingly. He folded his arms. “You didn’t leave it anywhere, Harvey. You carry it around with you every day.”

“All the more reason not to bring it up,” Harvey muttered.

“My grandmother sent me to a therapist after my parents died,” Mike told him. “I think it helped.”

“Think?”

“I mean, I didn’t really have anyone else to talk to about it, so yeah.”

Harvey studied the way Mike’s face fell. “Trevor?”

“He was there but...I never really brought it up after the funeral. I guess it’s hard for people to relate when everything’s going great for them and you’re alone wishing you were dead.”

“Yeah. I get it, rookie.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell?” Mike asked.

And Harvey nodded slowly. “Mostly. And because I thought…no one would believe me. That it was my fault. Or, I don’t know…that it would stop? And when it didn’t, I just figured that was my fault too, so I still didn’t say anything. Then it was too late to tell anyone, because I was already fucked up.”

“That’s when you—”

“Yeah.”

Mike’s eyes darted down toward Harvey’s legs, but they were concealed by a heavy comforter. “How did—sorry. I just wanted...nevermind. You don’t have to tell me.”

Harvey had his head to the side, pillow slightly propped up on his arms. His jaw was tight, and the memories stimulated a wave of nausea that he fought down by twisting his fingers into the sheet where Mike couldn’t see. But he was ready to come clean.

“I was going to slit my wrists,” he admitted, and just like that, it was done. He felt like lead, pinned to the mattress with residual guilt and fear of Mike's reaction.

But when Mike’s head snapped up, he just said, “…But you didn’t.”

“No. I didn’t.” Harvey shook his head. “Marcus came into my room, asked for help with his homework and I—I just knew I had to figure out a way to stick around, because he needed me.”

“You cut so you wouldn’t kill yourself,” Mike realized aloud.

“I felt better after. Less numb, more alive. Distracted, I guess. But it didn’t last, so I had to keep doing it, over and over. I didn’t…make it out any less damaged.”

“But you made it out.”

“Yeah,” Harvey conceded, and smiled weakly at Mike’s unfailing ability to find the silver lining in just about everything. “I did.”

Mike crawled up the bed and lied down, careful to keep a solid foot or so of space between them. He stared up at the ceiling. “I would have. Believed you.”

“What?”

“If I knew you then, I…would’ve believed you. That’s all.”

Harvey almost reached out for Mike’s hand, but he stopped, deciding that if the only way they were going to do this was on Mike’s terms, then Harvey would have to learn to adapt. It was better than the alternative.

Mike’s voice broke in again, and Harvey was grateful when it steered the topic away from his past.

“You know what’s weird?”

“What?”

“Sean’s three hours away and probably miserable and I’m still… _jealous_ of him. Pretty awful, right?”

Harvey disagreed. “Normal, maybe. Not awful.”

Mike scoffed. “I don’t know. I just feel like he got to know you better than me, and I guess didn’t think anyone ever would.”

“Because I slept with him?”

“Because you slept with him for months, Harvey.”

“And you think he knows me better than you…because of that?”

 _Yes. Not in a good way._ “I…I guess not,” Mike lied.

“Well,” Harvey breathed. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t tell him everything I told you tonight.”

“You didn’t?” Mike turned to face him for the first time since lying down. “Why not?”

“It was one thing for him to show up knowing I had a history of self-destruction. Entirely another to think I’d almost ended it completely.” Harvey shrugged, “At first I just didn’t want him to bail, because he was hot. And after that…well, it didn’t really come up that often, unless he was trying to get me to tell you. I’d never told anyone as much as I’d told him. I felt completely exposed.”

“That’s not always a bad thing,” Mike said quietly.

“I know. I’m still learning that.”

When Mike leaned in and rested his head closer, Harvey again resisted the urge to reach out and touch. After Wednesday, he wasn’t sure which one of his hands might be the final blow to the castle of sand it felt like they were rebuilding, one broken down communication barrier at a time.

But _Mike’s_ hands were never a wrecking ball; they never slapped or stung or forced or pointed in accusation. And when one of them slipped across Harvey’s chest and under his arm, it was gentle and entirely selfless, and it held them together instead of ripping them apart.

After a few minutes, Harvey whispered, “I’m sorry, Mike.” He was drowsy, maybe even on the brink of sleep now, and he didn’t really know what had happened to make him capable of saying the words, but all that mattered was that he finally was.  

Mike made a small noise of acknowledgement and pressed his face closer to Harvey until his forehead pressed Harvey's neck, just beneath his chin.

It should’ve been easier, since Mike’s face was hidden and he wasn’t staring back with curious blue eyes, but it wasn’t, because Mike was still right there, still waiting for an answer. And Harvey had to close his own eyes and take a deep breath before he could say, “I’m sorry that I was supposed to be the one person who would never hurt you, but did anyway.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm slowly but surely getting to the end of this story.


End file.
